My Invisible Best Friend
by lonestarreagan
Summary: Bekah was a normal eleven year old. At least, until she learned she was the only kid to be able to see Jack Frost. Every year, Bekah would wait until it got cold enough for Frost to visit her. He never forgot. Now Bekah's growing up. Will their friendship survive? Or will it change into something a whole lot more confusing?
1. Chapter 1

The first time I saw him was also the first day Texas had seen snow in almost twenty years. We got plenty of rain, a fair amount of sleet, and enough ice to know what cold was, but this was the first time I'd seen snow in the flesh. I might have already been a whopping eleven years old, but I shrieked with joy when I saw my front lawn covered in more than sludge and mud. Real snow.

My mother could hardly stick me into a jacket and boots before I was outside, jumping shin deep into the white powder. Though, truthfully, it wasn't really powder. Texas gets icy snow, which was fine by me. It stuck together better, allowing me to make a feeble attempt of a snowman. Frosty was my muse, but my snowman looked much more like a little lump of snow with twigs stuck in his head. I named him "Vlad the Impaler", after the inspiration for Dracula. I was very proud of myself for remembering that fun fact my teacher had told the class. I was a nerdy little kid.

I suppose the first time I realized he was there was after I dug out a hole to call my snow fort. I was patting the walls, trying to make the snow taller than my head. I was sitting down, so I figured it wouldn't take much snow, but I was sorely disappointed when I realized it would take most of the snow around me. I hesitated to take any more snow off the ground, since the ground looked muddy and ugly underneath.

"Drat," I said to myself, feeling particularly bold from being outside so long. I heard a quiet, dark chuckle.

"And thus, the child who probably hasn't ever seen snow realizes she's screwed."

I froze, resisting the urge to run back inside and hide. I took a quick peek around me, trying not to be too obvious. I finally spotted the person belonging to the voice. And I was surprised with what I found.

The boy was sitting up in a tree! He was perched precariously on the edge, barely balancing. He was wearing jeans and a hoody pulled over his head, leaving his face in shadows. He cradled a long stick in his hand, swishing it in the air disinterestedly. As I watched the wind seemed to bend around him, causing the snow to flow in a strange way. It appeared to pick him up, carrying him down. He stepped off, landing lightly on the ground, as easily as most people would step off an escalator. I tried not to stare, but it's very hard to not stare at a person who just flew through the air. Instead, I kept my head down, as my mom instructed me, trying not to draw unneeded and possibly violent attention. I prayed that my mom would glance out the window, because there was no way she'd hear me scream.

"And she's left with a choice." The man sounded bored as he walked slowly around me. "Ruin the perfectly smooth snow, and have some real fun. Or continue to marvel at how nice it looks. Decisions, decisions. So what's your decision, little one?"

Suddenly it sounded like a much more important problem than it should have been. My eleven year old mind just simply couldn't handle it. I had to know what to do, and it seemed that this strange boy would hold the only honest answer. It was a matter of life or death, I justified. Snow didn't come every day. So, I blurted out, without much though, "And what would you do?"

The man almost jumped out of his skin. He fell back, his hood flying back as he did. As he landed on his butt in the snow, I gasped. His hair was stark white, like snow, but shiny. His eyes were ice blue, and his skin was pale. I came from Texas, so I was used to tans, either real or artificial. Pale skin wasn't something you saw, especially when you live in a place where people spend every daylight hour they could in the sun.

I waited, expecting for him to answer me. Instead, he sat in front of me, mouth opening and closing in a way that resembled a fish. I watched curiously as he opened his mouth again. He was breathing hard, as though he had been running, even though he had only fallen over. I grew impatient, clucking my tongue and demanding, "Well? Which is it?"

He let out an insane sounding laugh, and I questioned my decision to speak at all. I leaned back on my toes, ready to stand and run if needed. Maybe talking to the insane man who flew down from a tree wasn't my best call. What was I talking about? Of course that was a bad call!

"She can see me." He whispered to himself. He laughed again. "You- You can see me!"

"Um," I was slightly freaked out by the white haired person in front of me. Cold to hot, crazy to- well, no. The crazy part was pretty consistent. I might have only been eleven, so granted, all boys were a little cuckoo, but this was beyond cooties. He was honest to goodness nuts. I'm pretty sure he was my mother's definition of 'high and crazy.'

His stupid grin suddenly dropped from his face, a look of confusion replacing it. "You can see me, right?"

He whipped around his head, searching amongst the snow for goodness knows what. I inched backwards, trying to think about how long it would take me to sprint to my front door. With the standing up, I estimated ten seconds. But then there was the opening the door. One second. Closing the door and locking. Another second. Not to mention, this guy had some long legs. He'd catch me, no doubt. Where was my mother when I needed her? Usually she was hovering over my shoulder, making sure I didn't do anything stupid.

"Would you stop that?" I snapped. His frenzied movements were making me fidget.

"You can see me!" He almost sounded accusing.

"No, duh." Give a round of applause for eleven-year-old sass. I expected a scowl, which is what I usually got from my mother when I sassed her, but instead the boy just grinned. I decided I needed to move this along. I was getting cold, hot cocoa was waiting inside, and there was no way I was staying out here with a wacko who thought I was blind. "I've got to go."

I stood and turned, running inside as fast as I could. As I shut the door, I glanced back and saw the boy, standing in the yard, a goofy grin on his face. I shivered, no longer comfortable with a weirdo standing in my snow. Time to get my parent.

"Momma!" I ran into the kitchen, finding my mother standing over the stove top, stirring in milk into her chocolate. She was humming softly, swaying side to side as she stirred. She turned and smiled at me.

"Chocolate should be done in a few minutes. Why don't you get a mug?"

I didn't have time for chocolate, as much as I wish I did. There was a mental institution escapee lose in our yard, and I couldn't be distracted by chocolaty sweets. "Momma, it's important!"

"Hmm?" My mother was still humming, but she stopped and turned around. She took one look at my agitated expression and set down the spoon, a concerned look on her face. "Bekah, what's wrong?"

"There's this strange guy in our yard and he thinks I'm blind and he talked to me and I think he's a killer and," I took a moment to take in a huge breath, before going on. "And you need to go get rid of him because he's creeping me out."

My mom's worried look quickly changed to an alarmed one, and she pushed me behind her before walking to the front door. She looked out the front window, eyes searching for the white haired boy. She stood there for a few moments, before turning back to me, confused. "Honey, there isn't anyone out there."

I pushed in front of her, peeking out the window. "He's right there! Mom, he flew! He has powers, I saw them."

My mom looked where I pointed, which was practically in front of her face, but it was as though she didn't see him. She just let out a relieved sigh, and turned towards me with a concerned look. "Sweetie, you've been out in that cold too long. Let's go get some cocoa."

She walked back to the kitchen, mumbling about "magic powers" and "flying."

I turned and glared at my mom's back, and then yanked open the front door, stomped down the front steps, and marched myself over to the offending boy in my yard. He watched me, and even though he had been standing out here the whole time, he still had a stupid look on his face. I clutched my jacket tighter to me, and gave him my best killing glare.

"Who are you, and why is my mom acting as though you don't exist?"

"I'm Jack Frost."

"Why can't my mom see you?" I demanded.

"Because, I'm invisible."

Idiot. "I'm eleven, not stupid. I can see you, same as you can see me. So you can't be invisible."

"But you're the oddity here. Most people walk right through me." He smiled at me, as though being seen was the most amazing thing in the world.

I was angry. At my mom for being blind, at this boy for being irritating, and at the fact that he was playing a stupid prank. So I stood up tall, and like my true sixth grade self, commanded, "Prove it."

Jack grinned at me. "Fine."

I shrieked as he grabbed hold of my arm, and took off. It was only a few yards to the door, but even short distances are scarier when you're flying several feet off the ground. Upon reaching the porch, he unceremoniously dumped me onto the doorstep. He swung open the door and walked inside, me jogging after him, trying to compensate for my shorter legs. I reached the kitchen to find him sitting on the counter, waiting for me expectantly.

I eyed my mom's back. Being very quiet, Jack crept up behind her. Looking back, I could see it was all for show, but at the time, I was ready for my mother to realize I had let a stranger into the house, and finally admit she could see him.

He reached out slowly. All his slow, calculated movements were making me anxious, so I finally hissed, "Just do it already!"

"What was that, Bekah?" My mom turned around. She focused on me, not giving Jack even the tiniest look over. "Ready for cocoa?"

She walked over to the cabinet that held the mugs, which just so happened to make her walk right through Jack Frost. I gasped aloud, not entirely sure what just happened. How had my mom walked through another person?

"What?" My mom glanced behind at me, reaching up to get down a mug. "Bekah, you've been acting really strange. Are you okay?"

I nodded quickly, before blurting out that I was going up to my room. I turned and sprinted out of the kitchen with Jack was following me. I sprinted up the stairs, and Jack followed with his long, easy strides. I ran into my room, but he slipped in before I could close the door. He promptly dropped into one of the bean-bags I had on the floor.

"I'm not crazy." I swore as though I was standing in court. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was actually a lot of evidence supporting the crazy thought. "Oh my gosh. I am crazy, aren't I?"

Jack looked worried. "Look- Bekah, right?"

"Its Rebekah for you, creep."

"Right, so Bekah. You aren't crazy, at least I don't think so."

"Don't think so?" My voice broke through a few octaves from that. What did he mean by that? I was eleven, I couldn't be crazy already.

"Well, there's always a possibility-." Jack flashed a smile. As though he was suddenly realizing that his joke had not gone over well, he cussed quietly, causing me to jump.

"Sorry, sorry." He mumbled, looking upset. "I just- okay. I'm not too great with talking to kids, alright? In fact, you'd be the first I've spoken to in a long time. Because- crap. How do I explain this?"

"Just tell me I'm not crazy!" I was beginning to hyperventilate, which was never a good sign. I took several gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Our eyes locked together, me trying to convey how much I needed reassurance.

"You aren't crazy, kid. Come here, I'll show you something." I followed him as he walked across my bedroom, swinging open the doors that lead to a tiny balcony. I didn't usually go out here, since in summer it was too hot, and most other times it was too windy. It isn't easy to concentrate on a book when the winds blowing the pages over. I was extra careful as I stepped out, since it was covered in a thin sheet of ice.

I watched as Jack held out his hand. I was curious as to what he was doing, but tried to stay quiet. The long stick from earlier suddenly came flying around the corner of the house, appearing to be riding the wind currents. It soared straight into Jack's hand, and he snatched it out of the air. He turned towards me, looking excited. "I've never actually gotten to show someone this."

His excitement was contagious, and I started bouncing on my toes in anticipation. He grinned, and then raised the staff in the air, swishing it in a circular motion. I watched in awe as the snow that was falling began to follow his movements. He made it circle tighter and tighter, until they're was a large sphere rotating in the air. He glanced back as though making sure I was paying attention, and then struck the bottom of his staff against the ground.

My mouth fell open as the sphere closed in on itself. As though time was standing still, I watched as it vibrated, pressure building. It seemed to be waiting for some order from Jack, fighting against its need to fall, to obey gravity. I looked at him, breathlessly waiting.

"Ready?" I nodded, smiling, waiting. He didn't make some grand gesture, he simply reached out his staff and let it gently touch the giant snow ball. The snow exploded upward, causing the snow to come down with a renewed vigor. I watched the snow sparkle as it fell, icy whites and blues. I was enchanted. I reached out my hand, letting the flakes fall on my gloves.

"It's beautiful." Jack nodded absently in agreement. "I bet you rock at snow ball fights."

"Absolutely."

"Can we have one?" I asked.

He turned towards me. "There's no way you'll win."

I shook my head. "I don't care. I haven't ever had one before though. Please?"

And so Jack and I had an epic snow ball fight that lasted until I was too cold to close my fingers. He went easy on me, I knew I wouldn't have won otherwise, but he seemed to enjoy playing, even though he had to hold himself back in order for me to have any chance. I assumed that he hadn't ever had kids throw back at him. I ended up having to go inside, with a promise to play with him the next day.

I had three fun filled days with Jack Frost, before he let me know he had to move on. He told me he had to go take his ice powers to other places for a while, but he swore to come back. I cried when he said he had to leave. I had placed Jack Frost on a pedestal, in such a way that young girls idolize their older brothers or cousins. The fact that he was leaving me made me very upset, to a point where I missed out on the last day I'd be able to play with him.

But, thankfully, he didn't leave without saying goodbye. He came and talked to me that night, flying through my balcony door and landing lightly in front of me. I turned to him with a hurt expression.

"Bekah, I'm sorry. But I have to go, at least for a little while." He really did look upset at having to leave.

"But why?" I whined. I realized I was being selfish, but I didn't care. What would it matter if no one else got snow? I would have Jack, who had quickly become my best friend over snow ball fights and snow angels. How could he leave me?

"Other kids need some fun. Besides, I can't stay here. It's already late February. Soon it will be too warm for me to visit. I'll get sick if I stay during spring and summer." He explained quietly. My bottom lip trembled, and I ran into Jack, hugging him tightly.

"You can't go," I sobbed. He patted my head awkward, since I only came to right under his shoulders.

"Believe me, I wish I didn't have to, kid. But I promise I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?"

"When?" I demanded, stepping back so I could see his face.

"Not until late fall, maybe winter?"

My eyes filled up with tears. "That's so long!"

"I know. But I will be back, I promise. Don't lose faith in me, alright?"

I sniffled, looking down at my feet. "Okay."

"Here," Jack stuck his hand into the pockets of his sweat shirt. He pulled out a tiny chain necklace, with a crystal snowflake in the center. I reached out and gently took it from him, cradling it in my hand. It was cool to the touch.

"Thank you." I gave him one more hug, before he had to leave. I walked out with him to the balcony, where he stepped off onto the wind. I waved until I couldn't see him anymore, trying to imprint the image on my mind. After all, it had to last me almost a whole year.

I went back into my room, crawled into bed, and turned off the lamp. I continued to focus on Jack flying away, until I was sure I wouldn't forget it. Agitated, I threw off the covers and tip toed to my desk. I grabbed a sheet of paper, scissors, a pencil, and blue construction paper. I cut out tiny snowflakes, taping them to the page. I drew a tiny man in the sky, silhouetted by a round moon. I cut and taped until I was pleased with the outcome, then scrawled the name 'Jack Frost' at the bottom of the paper. I took a pin and stuck it into my pushpin board. Finally calm, I jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

I fell asleep, and dreamed of a white haired boy flying in the sky.

**A/N: So. I think this is going to be more of a prologue. Skip ahead a few years next chapter. And probably make it longer. Thoughts? Criticism? Anything helps!**


	2. Chapter 2

Ice blue had to be my favorite color in the universe. I smiled as I wiggled my fingers in the air, letting the fresh nail polish dry. I blew lightly on them, impatient to get ready for today. It was important that I not waste any time with drying nails. Because today was the day. I could feel it in my bones.

It was roughly a week after Thanksgiving. And I knew, as soon as I woke up this morning, that it would freeze today. It wasn't because my toes were cold, or that I had to throw on a sweatshirt as soon as I got out of bed. Wasn't that I turned on the heater, or that I only let out Max for a few before he was scratching on the door, whining about the cold. I just knew.

I swirled my desk chair around, absent mindedly blowing on my finger nails. I stared at the wall, which was covered in papers. They were pinned and stapled over each other, hardly a speck of the blue wall showing through. Ice blue wall covered with ice blue drawings of a boy with ice blue eyes. I grinned to myself, reaching out to shuffle through the papers littering my desk. If I was right, I think my sketch pad was under here. And if I was right in assuming that it would be freezing today, then I'd need it. I plucked it from underneath the mass of papers, slipping it carefully into my backpack. I walked to my dresser, pulling on a pair of jeans and a turtle neck, before pulling my jacket from my closet. It had been my sixteenth birthday present from my mom. That was over a year ago, before my mom had her first stroke, and everything changed. I grabbed the backpack and jacket, and left my room.

I went downstairs, popping toast in the toaster for me, and some instant oatmeal in the microwave for my mom. I sliced up a few strawberries, putting them in a tiny bowl. This is what she ate almost every day for breakfast, since it was easy to make, and because the doctor said it would help lower her cholesterol. I put it all carefully onto a tray, before walking down the hall to my mom's room.

After the stroke, we had moved her bedroom from the upstairs to the downstairs, since it was easier to care for her if she didn't have to climb stairs. I gently pushed open the door, not bothering to knock. I set the tray on her bedside table, before nudging my mom awake. It took a few insistent tries, but eventually she sat up and accepted her tray.

"There you go mom." She leaned forward, used to the routine, as I fluffed her pillows, then sat back. I pulled an extra blanket out of the closet, covering her up.

"It's going to freeze tonight." My mother noted, glancing out the window. She dug into her breakfast without another word.

"Yes ma'am. A good ice is just what we need, don't you think?"

"You always did love winter weather. Personally, it just makes me cold. And tired." She snuggled deeper into her pillows. "Nope. Best I just stay in bed today."

"Well, remember you need to walk around a bit. Don't want to mess with the blood flow. And Mr. Webber is coming down to check our roof and heater. Says it's about time we let him. He's worried the roof will cave in, or that the house will freeze before that happens. So make sure you open the door for him. He should be here early, so you can just let him in and then take your nap." I kissed my mom on the forehead, and then left the room to get to school.

I grabbed my stuff from in front of the door, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of my mom. She'd changed so drastically in the last year. She'd had her stroke, which the doctors had claimed was a mix of high cholesterol and smoking. My mom hadn't smoked in years, but when she was a teenager through the time my dad met her, she'd had several cigarettes a day. Apparently, it wreaked havoc on her body, because she'd landed in the hospital last April.

I can still remember getting called to the principle in the middle of the day, being told that my mom had been taken to the hospital. It had scared me so badly. My mom had to stay at the hospital for a few nights, while they made sure she was alright, so my aunt Karen from Colorado had flown up and watched me at home, since the hospital wasn't a place for a sixteen year old to sleep. I had wanted to stay with my mom, my best friend, but had gone home because of Karen's insisting. Those few nights were the worst of my life.

Thankfully, my mom had recovered enough to be allowed to come home, but she hadn't ever been the same. Her body was weaker, she was more likely to get sick, and we had to watch her cholesterol like hawks. But we made it work, and she was still my best friend.

Well, besides Jack.

Jack Frost was my own little miracle. My little piece of magic that only I could see. Even thinking of him made a stupid little grin show up on my face. He was the best friend I would ever have, and each year I waited desperately for winter to come back and bring along the only guy I really liked.

I didn't like him in that way, of course. He was my big brother, the guy who'd teach me how to skate, and then hover over me, waiting for me to fall. Which happened more often then I cared to admit it. I might be perfectly capable when my two feet were on the ground, but put me on ice and I was sitting more often than I was skating. So it really helped that my guardian angel, which I called him to get under his skin, was the personification of winter.

I clutched my coat tightly to me as a burst of cold wind blew my hair around. I watched the kids in front of me snatch at their hats and scarves, trying to keep them firmly on their person. I grinned despite myself.

I was used to being behind my classmates. Walking to school, in the cafeteria, and even in classes. I tended to be an observer, preferring to watch them work through their dramas than actually being a part of it. They were like my personal show, my models for my drawings, though most of them couldn't tell you my name if you asked. Even though they'd known me since preschool.

I chalked it up to my being exceptionally average. Average height, average weight, and average grades. I was all bland tones, brown hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. I didn't do anything after school, or during school for that matter. I went, I learned, and then I left as quickly as I could.

The only time I'd ever even shown up on their radar was when my mom got sick, and then their moms had brought me enough food to keep me fed for three weeks.

I listened as the group of students in front of me, fellow seniors, I thought, complained about the cold weather. The guys seemed irritated, since it seemed like it messed with their scrimmage plans after school. The girls just agreed with the guys, because they didn't care either way, so why shouldn't they agree?

Like most of the time, I felt like an outsider. I imagined what I would say if I were talking to them. How I would explain my love of winter. How beautiful it was, and crisp, and clear. How the happiest moments of my life were spent sitting under icicles and falling snow. How the rest of my life seemed to just be on pause all year long, obsessively drawing a guy, trying to convince myself he really existed, and that he would not leave me here, alone. Forever.

_Of course you couldn't tell them that_, I chided myself. _Not without telling them about Jack, and how you're the only one who can see him, and then you'd wind up in a mental institution._

There were days when knowing I had Jack somewhere was the only thing that got me through, but sometimes it was lonely to think I was the only mortal able to see him. I had always thought I was a little weird, but Jack just proved it. That sounded harsh, but I really did love him, even if it could possibly mean I was off my rocker.

I did honestly spend several hours over the past years considering how likely it was that I was in a coma somewhere imagining everything that had happened since Jack's appearance when I was eleven. These thoughts usually ended with me pinching myself several times in a row.

But days like this pushed all of those depressing thoughts to the deepest parts of my mind, where they couldn't bring my mood down, even the tiniest bit. Days where I knew I wouldn't be going much longer without a friend. I just had to make it through today.

I made it to the school a few minutes later, meaning I was still early for class. It had only taken fifteen minutes to make the normal twenty minute walk to school. I looked around nervously, watching everyone talk to each other, lounging around on the picnic tables outside of the school building. I ducked my head, deciding to go sit in my first period class and wait until the bells rung.

My high school worked on an AB block schedule, with four, hour and a half classes per day. Today, thankfully, was my B day, which was my personal favorite. It was also easier than A day, which had my English, science, and math classes. But today was my fun day. French, History, Art, and off period. In that order.

French was thankfully over in no time, since it might be easy but it wasn't particularly distracting, which meant I wasn't having an easy time focusing. We were reviewing over –er word conjugating, which we had all learned in our first year of French. It was some review because we had a substitute teacher.

I walked quickly to my level four art class, and dropped my books off next to my table. There were only three other people in my class, since most people only took the required one year of art. These people would probably be the closest thing I had to actual friends, which sounds sad, but I don't tend to care too much. We were all pretty quiet and reserved, politely putting up with each other.

Jimmy, who was our sculptor, offered me a small smile as he walked in, which I returned kindly. He immediately went towards the back of the room, where his current masterpiece was being worked on.

I liked to believe that Jimmy and I were friends. I sat with him at lunch, since neither of us really liked to associate with other people if we could help it. He had been my first boyfriend in sophomore year, but after three months of dating, we both agreed we liked to be friends more. Sounds cliche, but at least it actually worked out well. By then, everyone was used to us keeping to ourselves, so we just kept at it.

There had been some awkwardness between us, but thankfully Jimmy had shrugged it off with his usual easy smile.

Soon after Jimmy arrived, two other girls entered, quietly talking to each other. They both nodded in my general direction, before separating to go to their own work places.

I sighed, and then went to get my canvas from the back. I was very proud of my work, but it still needed a few finishing details if I wanted it to be ready for competition, which is where most of my art would be heading when spring came around. This particular piece was darker then my others, but like my others, was based off of one of the many dreams I'd had since Jack had left last time.

It had been a nightmare, really. I had quite a few of those after the last time he had left, which was then closely followed by my mom landing in the hospital. My life had changed drastically, and my subconscious was in turmoil, sending me horrible nightmares that would leave me sweating and shaking, scared to step out of my bed. The dream that had inspired me to come to school and paint this had been awful.

I had been standing on ice, expectantly waiting for Frost to come and help me. But of Frost's helping hand, I had been confronted by a tall dark figure, who had reached out and broken the ice, in some weird dreamy way. I had screamed silently, falling into the pond, but Jack had appeared and grabbed me before I went under, throwing me behind him. But the momentum had sent him stumbling through the ice. I hadn't been able to save him, no matter how I had tried.

The painting showed a boy sinking beneath the ice, his white hair flowing around his head. A desperate girl was sitting on top of the ice, hand outreached to try and grab him, but the boy was already too deep to be saved. My teacher had commented on how my paintings had gotten increasing sad and dark throughout the last year, but how was I to help it? I had been through a lot since junior year.

I stayed focused on my task, painting and mixing and painting some more. I was busy until right before the bell, which was when I cleaned up after myself and dumped the paper plates I had used for my palettes. Once the bell rung, I left the room before I had to keep up a conversation with one of the other students.

And thus my day continued.

I went to class, faithfully took notes, and dodged other people at all cost. And I prayed that it would freeze. Just a normal day in the life of Bekah.

I did seem to learn the most surprising things when I was quiet, though. It's like half the time, I was as invisible as Jack, and the other half of the time no one cared if I heard. Both pleased me enough, since being ignored was my favorite thing about this school. While some of my classmates were as boring as you would expect them to be, there was always some drama that someone thought would ruin their life. Melodramatic underclassmen.

The dismissal bell finally rang, at least for me. For most people, they'd still have one more period to go. I had considered picking up another language this year, thinking Spanish might look nice on a college resume, but had decided against it in favor of getting out of class early. The less time I had to spend with these people, the better. I was too socially awkward to enjoy talking to other people.

I walked home slowly, enjoying the feel of coldness seeping through my jacket every time the wind blew. Without all the other noisy kids walking with me, I enjoyed this time to myself. As an artist, I knew that experiencing things by myself was better, since there weren't any distractions.

I kicked at the leaves piled around the sidewalk. I watched as the cars whizzed past. I had never owned my own car, though I had taken drivers-ed and gotten my license. I was supposed to have gotten a used one, but had never found a reason to go through with that. I borrowed the old clunker from the garage if I had to, but otherwise found that I could walk where I needed to. I paid for gas with the money I had earned over the previous summer, but since I didn't use it except for emergencies and grocery shopping, I hardly ever had to get more gas. The grocery store wasn't that far away anyway.

I shivered as a particularly strong gust of wind blew the leaves around my feet around. I sped up, looking forward to a cup of hot chocolate when I got home.

I sat down carefully at my desk, placing the mug on a side table so as not to risk ruining any of my doodles. I made sure to knock out an hour of homework, even though I doubted it would be necessary. I tried not to get distracted, but it was difficult. Eventually, I gave up, and grabbed one of the worn out books from my bookshelf. I took the almost empty mug downstairs and placed it in the kitchen sink. Then I tip-toed towards my mom's room.

I opened the door, peeking around the edge to look into the room. My mom was in her bed, eyes closed. Assuming she was napping, I made to close the door. Before I could, however, my mom jerked awake, her bleary eyes looking at me.

"I'm so sorry, mom. I didn't mean to wake you up!"

"Nonsense, I've been waiting for you to get home." She yawned and patted the bed, indicating that I should come sit. I grinned, walking across the room and getting under the covers. I leaned against the headboard, and told my mom about my day.

I wasn't usually a liar. In fact, I didn't even consider what I was saying to be lies. They just weren't technically all of the truth. I liked to refer to my stories as "The Better Life of Bekah." It was my life, but sweetened. Sugar coated. There was no reason for my mom to work herself up for my benefit. Especially since she was already stretched thin as it was. And my mom had always wanted me to be the happy teenager with friends and hopes and dreams.

I had hopes and dreams. Just not the ones she wanted for me. And I had acquaintances. Which were almost practically friends.

When we were through talking about my day, I held up the book I'd brought. My mother's smile widened as she understood what I meant by it, and she snuggled under the covers. I opened the worn out poetry book, flipping to my mother's favorites first.

We did this as often as we could. My mother found that when I read aloud, she could relax. Of course, sometimes I was too busy with homework and dinner, but I tried to be quick. Reading to my mom was one of my favorite things to do with her. She had always loved it, but reading by herself made her eyes and head hurt. I gladly performed this small task for her, enjoying how happy it made my mom. I read until I noticed she had dozed off, and then I crept out of her room, careful to not wake her up.

I walked towards the kitchen, glancing out one of the front windows to check on the weather. The clouds from earlier and had grown thicker and darker, heavy with rain. Or hopefully, heavy with snow. The thermometer that was electrically connected outside read that it had to drop a few more degrees, but now that it was getting dark, it should drop fast. I hummed contentedly as I made my way to the fridge.

I pulled out some left over turkey, and after careful inspection I heated it up in the microwave. I ate by myself, since my mom was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb her. I got halfway through my plate, and then I simply stared at it, pushed it around. My appetite was replaced by an impatient want for something to happen. I was bored, and I refused to eat if boredom might be the only reason I was doing it. I grabbed my plate and dumped it into the sink. I turned on the water until it was scorching, then preceded to scrub the plate until there wasn't a speck of food left. I stood in front of the sink a moment, tapping my foot. I felt like the nervous energy I had right now would drive me insane if I didn't do something. Now.

I ran upstairs, picking my backpack off the floor. I took out my sketch pad, and flipped to the first page that was blank. I was running low on empty pages. I pulled a stool from my closet out to my balcony, and then I sat in the cold, expertly sketching the land in front of me.

There really wasn't much, just an empty yard surrounded by trees on three sides and my house on the other. But that blank area gave me plenty of space to put a creative spin on it. In this case, I had drawn some strange castle, making the trees look like giant sycamores. It was all angles and craziness. I sighed, ripping out the paper, crumpling it up, and throwing it behind me.

Then, I noticed a tiny fleck float past my head. My eyes snapped up. I watched a snowflake fall, and then another. My small smile grew, until I was practically beaming as the sky. I ran back inside, and threw my sketch pad onto the bed as I skidded through. Stupid hardwood floor and socks.

I flew down the stairs, not bothering with shoes or a jacket as I opened the front door and ran outside. The snow was still barely falling, but I was looking for it, so it didn't escape my notice. I sat on the porch's steps, my elbows on my knees. And I waited.

The snow began to fall faster, with bigger flakes. I knew it meant Jack was getting closer, probably skating on his own ice, or flying on a chilly wind. I shivered, wishing I'd brought my jacket. Now there wasn't a chance to go and get it, I couldn't if it meant I might miss Jack's arrival. I just wish he would hurry, I couldn't stand to wait much longer.

**A/N: Obviously, I don't own Jack Frost, but I do own all my random OC's!**

**I really meant to make chapters longer, but since this was just a chapter to introduce ya'll to Bekah, I didn't want to overload with useless crap (though I probably did anyway, many apologies). Jack comes next chapter (insert fan girl squeal). Any glaring mistakes? I'd be glad for the heads up.**


	3. Chapter 3

I was pretty sure I was going to freeze on these steps if he didn't get here soon. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stay warm. I almost gave in and went to grab my jacket, but I couldn't miss Jack getting here. I always was here when he showed up, and this year wouldn't be any different, no matter how dumb I had been concerning winter apparel.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait much longer. Just before he reached my house the snow stopped, and I sat in complete silence, eyes set towards the sky.

One second, he wasn't there, and the next one he was.

He flew down from above the trees, landing just a few yards in front of me. He gave me his little grin, which was his way of showing how glad he was to see me. I sat, motionless, for barely a second, before I launched myself off the stairs, sprinting towards him. I ran straight into him, not able to slow down enough. My arms wrapped his neck, hugging him as tightly I could. Because I had to convince myself he was here. My momentum caused us to topple over, though he somehow managed to keep me from hurting myself.

I grinned at him, unable to keep my face from smiling. He stood up, and then helped me get to my feet. I was laughing, breathless and really happy for the first time in forever.

"You're here!" I laughed again.

"I'm here." He reached out and pulled me into a hug, looking just as happy as I felt. "You've grown. A lot."

"Thank God for growth spurts, am I right?"

"I miss short you already." He laughed as I whacked his arm playfully.

"I wasn't that short! It isn't my fault you're insanely tall!"

He shrugged. "Fair enough."

I grabbed his hand, pulling him around the house. We had to dodge some trees, but soon we were standing in my backyard. He looked over at me curiously.

"Sorry, didn't want anyone to see me talking to myself. They already all think I'm crazy, no need to let them know I actually am." I smiled to let him know I was joking. If there was one thing I loved about Jack, it was that he never took anything the wrong way. It was all easy going and smiles from him. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"So am I," he said. "I swear, I almost sent a few snowstorms in summer just so I could come talk to you. A lot has happened since we saw each other last."

"Same here." I looked down, my smile replaced with a small frown.

Jack noticed my mood change. "What? What's happened? Is everything alright?"

I couldn't let my emotions get the best of me right now. Not when he had just gotten here. There'd be plenty of time to tell him about my mom later. "It's kind of a long story. I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Promise?" Jack held out his pinky. I resisted to urge to roll my eyes. Jack and I always promised like this. Jack said that we weren't allowed to break the sacred pinky oath. It had started when I was twelve, the time Jack finally came back. There had been something outrageous he had told me, I think concerning Santa, and he had pinky promised it was true. Now, we only used it for important things, which seems beyond childish, but I suppose Jack and I are just childish people.

I grabbed his pinky with mine, and we shook them, kind of like a handshake, but with pinkies. "Promise."

"Alright, well it's late. Time for you to go to bed, and for me to go freeze some things." He rubbed his hands together, obviously excited that he had the chance to go cause a little bit of chaos.

"Hey! I'm seventeen, don't I opt out of bedtime now?" I tried to sound irritated, but I yawned at the end, which gave me away.

"Nope. Because I'm still technically older, aren't I? Ready?"

I turned around, my back facing him. "Ready."

A cold wind hit my back, and then I was flying up to my bedroom, thankful for Jack's help. We had discovered that it was easier for him to fly me up to my room, since then my mom wouldn't know I was sneaking out of my room as often as I did. Once my feet connected with my balcony, and I had regained my balance, I turned to face Jack.

"Jack?" I called down.

"Yes, Ms. Rebekah?" I made a face at the use of my full name.

"May I be able to count on your pleasurable company on the first snow day of this year?" I tried to have a fancy British accent, but it sounded awful. I could tell Jack was trying not to laugh at me.

"Of course, I'd be honored." He gave me an over dramatic bow. Then he continued, in his regular voice. "Now go to sleep Bekah, I have my work cut out for me tonight."

"Fine." I left the balcony, leaving the door unlocked. Jack would have to be responsible for getting me up tomorrow, and I expected he'd get me up too early for a snow day. But that was okay, because it was Jack.

I crawled into bed, and pulled the covers up to my chin. It didn't take me long to fall asleep, and slip into a dream.

_I was walking down a road. My feet stirred the fog with every step I took, causing it to swirl and move in a creepy way. I kept walking, not sure why, but knowing there was a reason I continued forward. In the distance, a tall, dark shadow rose up. My brain was telling me not to go any closer, but this was a dream, and dream me had to know who the shadow belonged to._

_I ran, trying to catch it. But right before I got close enough to reach out and turn around the man causing the shadow, the ground was ripped out from under me, and I was falling._

_I landed in a blank room. White walls, white ceiling, and a white floor. I turned around, looking for an exit, but there wasn't one. I heard a thump behind me, and spun around. Lying on the floor was a woman, her back facing me. I was sure it was my mom, but I was too afraid to go see. The woman seized, twitching on the floor. I tried to back away from her, but I tripped over my feet and fell over on my butt. I scooted away, until my back hit the wall. I curled up in a ball, trying to block out the noises of the woman._

_I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was on the pond. I looked at the shore, knowing that I would see the shadow again. And there it was, standing on edge of the pond. It breaks the ice, and only a moment before I'm a goner, Jack saves me. The shadow turns towards Jack, shooting raw, black energy at him. Jack cripples under the assault, and there isn't anything I can do. I scream and sob, but it's too late to save Jack. The shadow turns to me, easily dropping Jacks body back on the ice. I know I'm next. It raises its hand and-_

I sat up, gasping. My eyes dart around the room wildly, looking for a threat.

_It's just my bedroom, _I tell myself. My heart is racing and I'm freezing cold. I look and see that the doors had blown open. I rubbed my eyes and rested my head in my hands for a moment. A glance at the clock tells me I've woken up too early again. I groan, throwing my feet over the bed. I walked softly over to the balcony doors. I closed them quickly, carefully not to look outside too long. My imagination was obviously on hyper drive right now, and seeing a shadow might cause me to have some sort of panic attack. Not something I want or need right now.

It was only three-thirty, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. I never was. Instead, I grabbed my sketchbook and sat in my office-style chair. I drew the shadow from the road, with the low overhanging branches and fog.

I had nightmares more and more often now. It used to be only once or twice a month, now I had them several times a week. Most of them were somewhat like the one I'd just had, with the shadow. But sometimes they were just your standard nightmare, like falling and going splat or being swept away in a tornado. Those were easier to shake off, since once you were awake, you knew they were impractical and you could laugh them off.

I had come to the point where I was actually grateful if they were the ridiculous ones, since I could usually fall back to sleep if it was something like that. But the ones involving the shadow were always the worse, since even once I was awake and in charge of my thoughts again, I still couldn't calm down. These nightmare were actual fears.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to flatten it after the restless night I'd had. I considered going and jumping in the shower, but I didn't want to wake up my mom. Just because I was awake didn't mean she should to be up. She needed her rest. I also tried to find my laptop, but it must have been buried beneath a pile of clothes or paper, because I couldn't find it.

I went back to my bed and lied down. I stared at my ceiling, trying to somehow quiet my mind. But I couldn't ignore how anxious I was feeling. The nightmare always left a sick feeling of fear in my stomach, making me feel as though if I didn't move and do something I'd go insane.

I stood up, and walked to my closest. I pulled out sweatpants and a jacket, along with my running shoes. If I didn't live in the neighborhood that I did, I'd probably be too scared to go anywhere, especially considering that being outside should probably just make me even more skittish. But I lived in one of the safest neighborhoods ever built. Not to mention, it might be only four A.M., but there'd probably already be people heading to the gym. There was this group of health crazy moms and dads that went to the gym in groups.

I left a note in the kitchen for my mom, letting her know I'd gone to the gym for a quick workout. It wasn't uncommon for me to go out at odd hours, so she wouldn't worry if she saw the note. She probably wouldn't even be awake before I got back. I grabbed the keys from the bowl on the counter and walked quietly through the house to the garage.

I got into the old, beat up car, and easily backed it down the driveway. Other people might be worried about the frozen roads or reckless drivers, but I hardly passed anyone on the roads leading to the gym, and I was a very capable driver.

I pulled into the parking lot of the twenty-four hour gym. There weren't many cars, but I could see that there were some people here. I grabbed my membership card from the console, and walked inside.

I signed in at the front desk, and walked towards one of the treadmills. I had left my ipod at home, so I ran without any music, but it still felt good to get my muscles moving. I was able to block out my thoughts by focusing on how much it hurt to run when I hadn't done it in a while. I used to come to the gym every day like the little gym junkie I was, but I hadn't visited in a while. My running was proof that you can get out of shape in a very short amount of time.

I didn't stay long, since I didn't feel like a serious work out. I ended up leaving and making it home by five. I ripped up the note I'd left in the kitchen, and went upstairs and took a quick shower, since I was sweaty and I hated that. Then I put my hair up in a ponytail and dropped back into my bed. I was able to fall asleep, thankfully, but not for long.

"Wake up," A sing songy voice sung near my ear. I grumbled and swatted away the person who would mess with me while I was sleeping.

"Go away." I mumbled into my pillow.

"No way. Get up."

"Noooooo," I sighed sleepily, rolling over and squinting at Jack floating above me.

"I'm not leaving until you get up."

"Fine," I groaned and sat up. "Now leave."

"Why?" He whined.

"Because I have to get ready. Give me twenty minutes or so, okay? I need food." I also had to make sure mom was alright, but we could talk about that later. "Go stir up some trouble outside."

"Alrighty." Jack flew out my balcony doors, and then turned and looked back at me. "But don't take too long, I've already waited an entire year."

"Fair enough. Now go."

He flew away, and went who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. I changed out of my sweats and into some warmer clothing. I'd probably be outside most of today. I checked my emails on my laptop, just to make sure school was canceled. It was, like I knew it would be, and I closed my computer with a satisfying click. I took my backpack, and emptied everything out on to my bed. I put in my sketchbook, a Shel Silverstein book, and an extra pair of socks and gloves, in case I got the first pairs wet.

I brought my mom her breakfast, and then returned to the kitchen. I had learned it was best to be prepared when it came to snow days. I filled a thermos mug with microwaved hot chocolate, and grabbed some pocket warmers, which we seemed to always have around. Weird.

I left a note on the fridge, letting my mom know I was out enjoying the snow, in case she went looking for me. Then I ran outside.

Jack was waiting for me on the porch, though I didn't see him immediately. He grabbed me from behind, causing me to scream out in surprise. He carried me to the edge of the porch and threw me in the air. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could, not wanting to see the ground rushing towards me. I knew he'd catch me, eventually, but he tended to side on the "second-before-I-break-my-face" side of things. Not good for my nerves.

As I expected, he caught me with a blast of air. I cracked my eyes open, to find myself 20 feet of the ground, and quickly gaining altitude. Jack was trailing behind me, but for some reason he didn't come help me himself, instead he just sent another blast of chilly wind to push me farther along.

"Jack Frost!" I screamed down at him. I doubt he could hear me, since I couldn't even hear myself, but that didn't mean I wouldn't try. "Put me down before someone sees me!"

He flew closer, and grabbed me around my waist. Now that I wasn't worried about my imminent death, I could focus on more important things. Like sending Jack a death glare. Jack stuck his tongue out at me, but began to lower us both down to the ground.

I shouldn't have been worried about people seeing us. Somehow, in Jack's crazy flying, he had turned us around. We were flying above the trees, and slowly circling towards the ground. I immediately recognized the pond we were landing at. It was out behind my house. If you started from right below my balcony, and just walked directly away from the house, you'd reach it.

I had very, very fond memories of this place. Jack and I found it when I was thirteen and we were exploring. This was where he had taught me to skate. It had been the most amazing thing I had ever felt, like flying with your feet still on the ground. And with Jack, it was natural. After he had left that year, I had bought a pair of roller blades, hoping that I'd get that rush again, but it was never the same.

But it wasn't just skating. It was everything. We played here, and talked here, and became best friends here. Before this pond, Jack had come back because he thought I was a cool kid, and because I was the only one who saw him. But this place had actually caused us to have the friendship we had now. It had gone from a girl worshiping an older-brother figure, to us sharing our stories and understanding each other.

And it looked beautiful. Icicles were hanging down from the trees, and snow was falling. It was the picture of a winter wonderland.

"I haven't been here since last year." I whispered. It felt as though speaking too loud would break the enchantment, and everything would disappear.

"You could have come down if you wanted. It isn't that far of a walk."

"Even if I had," I paused, trying to put my thoughts into words. "It wouldn't be the same. Even if it were snowing, or if it looked just like this. It isn't the place that I love."

I looked at Jack, and he was nodding in agreement. A thought suddenly occurred to me.

"I didn't bring my skates!" They were still crammed into the hallway closet, probably covered by old scarfs and who knows what else.

Jack grinned at me. Then he said, "Stay here."

I watched as he flew over to one of the trees we tended to sit under and grabbed something. He took out a box, wrapped and tied with a bow. I looked down at the ground as he brought it over to me, smiling. He held it out, but I didn't take it yet, instead I held up my hands. "No, no, no. No gifts. You know that's a rule. You bring winter and I bring myself, that's the deal."

It was a rule that had been necessary the first few years, when all my middle school crafts were being handed off to Jack as "presents." Anything I could think of, I gave Jack. I even once stole a pair of my mom's crocs and tried to give them to him, since he never seemed to wear shoes. That's when he put his (bare) foot down on the entire thing. And I had finally agreed, even though I felt as though he was letting himself down. I mean, seriously. He brought freaking winter. In return, he got snowballs in his face and a crazy hermit. Which, in case you didn't understand, that was me.

"Aw, come on." Jack pouted.

"No. We don't break rules. There are rules in place for a reason."

"But-," Jack whined. "It isn't even a gift from me. It's from North."

"North?" Was I supposed to know who that was? Oops.

"Oh. You know, Santa? St. Nick? Mr. Claus?" Jack supplied helpfully. "Whatever you want to call him, it's from the Big Guy with the List."

"You're telling me I'm being given an early Christmas present from Santa Claus himself? Delivered by Jack Frost?" I raised my eyebrow, but accepted the box. I wasn't an unreasonable person. If someone insisted in giving me something then there was no reason not to accept it with good grace. "Thank you Jack."

"Just open it already."

Jack wasn't one to be patient. I untied the bow on top, and ripped off the paper. I held the paper in my hand, unsure what to do with it. Jack took it from me, and threw it in the air.

"Jack! Littering is a felony, or something."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud. I sent it to a trash can. Chill."

I glared at for making fun of me, but I decided against arguing that point. By most people's standards, I was a stick in the mud. I could live with that. I shook my head at Jack and took the lid off the box.

Inside were a new pair of ice skates. I gasped and took both of them out of the box. They were beautiful. They were ice blue, and they sparkled like snow.

"I hope you like them." Jack seemed nervous. "You know, they reminded me of you. Remember when you were twelve and still obsessed with Cinderella? Well, their kind of like your personal glass slippers."

"They're amazing Jack."

"Oh, good." Jack gave me a goofy grin. "And I had North infuse them with some wacky kid's magic so they'd fit you. Though they'll need some breaking in. Want help getting them on?"

"Sure." I handed him one of the shoes. "Start untying this, would you?"

It took me a few minutes to untie and retie the skates, even with help, but soon I was hobbling towards the pond. I had refused to let Jack fly me the short distance, since I'd grow use to them faster if I used them like a normal person. But that didn't keep Jack from hovering near me, ready to catch me in case I fell over. Same brotherly instincts he always had.

I stepped carefully onto the ice, and Jack landed next to me. He grabbed my hands, and began to pull me around the ice. I laughed happily as the wind whipped my hair around. Jack swung me around in a circle and let go, leaving me to glide across the ice by myself. I kept my balance, but barely.

Jack circled around me, twirling and sliding barefoot across the ice.

"Showoff!" I yelled at him.

"Speak for yourself, Ms. Twinkle Toes." Jack fired back sarcastically.

We skated as long as I could, but eventually, my feet were exhausted and so was the ice. Jack would need to freeze over all the marks we'd made. I'm sure he would have right away if he thought that was what I wanted, but I really needed to sit down. This time, I did let Jack help me over to a dry spot under a tree. I yanked off the skates and placed them back into the box.

"Great skates," I reassured Jack. "But it's the first time I've skated in them, so I'm sure my feet will kill me tomorrow."

"Probably."

We sat silently for a few moments. Then Jack cleared his throat, and asked, "So, what's new with you?"

I had hoped he wouldn't ask me that. I didn't want to ruin our first day back together with the sob story that had become my life. It was stupid to dwell on things that I didn't have power over, so I had tried to avoid the topic of my mom. With anyone. I hadn't even talked to the shrink my mom had tried to send me to. But Jack wasn't some shrink. He was Jack.

"More then you'd probably expect, Frost."

**A/N: So, chapters are coming along, and getting longer (I think). This one, without including this note, is over 4000 words. That's good (Again, I think).**** Constructive criticism is VERY much appreciated, because that's how you get better! Or, if you feel like that isn't something you want to do, maybe a favorite line? Least favorite? Again, I'd appreciate it. :)**

**I'm also considering doing this chapter from Jack's POV... But I've always felt like that makes the story pause for a while, which irritates me, personally. Let me know if that's a good/bad idea? I AM planning on having Jack POV later, so if not here, it might be somewhere else. Not sure yet.**


	4. Chapter 4

"A lot has happened since last year." I looked down at the ground.

Jack scooted closer. "Is everything alright?"

I nodded.

"So what did happen then?" I knew Jack wouldn't drop it, and he had no reason to. We didn't keep things from each other. Besides, there wasn't any point to not tell him what had happened.

"My mom had a stroke."

"What? When did that happen?" Jack looked shocked. My mom may never have had met him, but he knew her very well. It sounds way creepier then it really is. It wasn't as though he stalked my mom or anything. He just usually would sit with me while I drank hot chocolate. And if my mom happened to be in the kitchen, then he'd be forced to listen and make unheard comments. He liked to consider himself and Theresa great friends, even though my mom didn't know he existed.

"Late April?"

"Alright, you can't make me pull this story out of your clenched teeth." He gave me a look that basically said _spill._

I picked up a handful of snow. I shifted it through my fingers as I thought about where I should really begin. This was a serious conversation, and serious conversations with Jack Frost were few and far between. I needed to handle this with delicacy, make sure to not go into to "deep and depressed" mode with him.

"Well," I began slowly, but picking up speed as I progressed. "She had a stroke at the house, but Mr. Webber found her and brought her to the hospital. She stayed there a few days, but she was fine, so now she's back home."

Jack raised his eyebrow. "That's it?"

"No, of course not." I smiled to try to lighten the mood. I leaned in and jokingly whispered, "There were lots of tears. And angst. And depressing diet changes. But I would really rather not talk about it, if that's alright."

"It can't be good to keep all that emotions stuck inside of you." Jack shrugged. "But if you don't want to talk, you don't have to. I'm not exactly the best person to deal with deep stories anyway. Now Sandy was always good at that stuff."

"What? Does he offer great advice or something?"

"In his own way, yes." I just nodded. I looked over at Jack, where he was reclining on a low branch of a tree. "Sandman doesn't talk much. Well, at all actually."

"The dream guy?"

"That's the one.

"Yeah, he's always been the coolest one to me." I smiled, thinking about how I had always been impressed by the idea of a man who gave children dreams. Used to, I would write all my dreams into a journal, because I felt like they meant something, like a special message from the guardian himself. Of course, I now drew my dreams. And I hardly ever had good ones.

"Come on, cooler than North? All the kids love Santa." Jack grinned, probably glad that I didn't look upset anymore. Jack preferred for everyone to have fun, and being upset did not qualify as "fun."

"Oh no. I always though Santa was a little bit creepy." Jack burst out laughing. I rushed on to explain myself. "I mean, he crawls into your house through a chimney. Do you know how scared I was that a robber would crawl down my chimney because of that?"

"You didn't like North because he reminded you of a robber?" Jack was laughing so hard now that he almost fell off his tree branch. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Looking back, I'd been scared of a lot of impractical things as a kid. Came with the over active imagination. Which, if my nightmares were anything to compare it to, I probably still had it.

The laughter died down. Jack didn't attempt to make conversation, and neither did I. Because of the talk about Santa and Sandman, I began to think about guardians. Jack had told me a little bit about them last year when I had asked, but we never had really discussed them in detail. I knew there was the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. And of course Santa Claus and Sandman. But he hadn't really wanted to talk about them. I believe the words he had used to describe them were, "No fun old spirits who like to keep kids from doing anything remotely exciting."

I think that most of that was just him ranting, but once you took out all the parts that were just him being bitter, the guardians sounded alright. A little stiff when it came to rules, but overall, how bad can a group of people devoted to making kids happy be?

I sat quietly, mulling over the thoughts in my head. I must have sat longer than I thought because by the time I turned towards Jack, he was fast asleep, miraculously still balanced on the branch. His arm swung down, and his staff was tightly gripped in his hand, even in sleep. Most people looked relaxed when they slept, but Jack looked tense. Like he was ready to go from sleeping to attacking someone at a moment's notice. I wondered why.

I pulled my sketch book out of my backpack, and searched until I found the pencil I'd packed. I began to doodle on the page. It wasn't really a picture, just a bunch of little scribbles on a page. I was just really wasting time, since I couldn't think of anything else to do.

Suddenly, I became aware of the sound of feet crunching the dead fall leaves. I looked around, curious. Ever since we had found the pond, no one else had ever come here. I didn't see anyone, but I knew I wasn't imagining the footsteps. And they were coming closer.

I glanced over at Frost, but he was still sleeping. I slipped my sketchbook back into my bag, and stood up. I walked towards the area I thought the noise was coming from. It was across the pond from where Jack and I had been sitting. But before I reached the trees, a tall man stepped out of the shadows and into the clearing.

I had no reason to be worried, because Jack could easily fly us both away. Besides, the man in front of me wasn't very intimidating. He was younger, maybe twenty-five, and he had a pack thrown over his shoulder. Yet I felt uncomfortable as I watched the man stop in the trees and stare. I stood halfway between Jack and the man, unsure if I should walk forward or not.

"Hey." The man said. I hesitated to speak, since I knew what people said about talking to strangers. But where I grew up, everyone talked to each other. People became neighbors even if they didn't live here.

But I think that only applied if they already knew your parents, or something like that.

"Who are you?" I snapped. I knew I sounded rude, but until this man proved that he could be trusted, I wouldn't be getting chummy with him.

"My name's Duff. I was hiking near here, and I'm afraid I got a little lost."

I relaxed a bit. There was a park near my house that had a running trail and a hiking trail. Plenty of people had wound up accidently walking on to someone's property because of how unclear the trails were.

"From Cedar Park?" Duff nodded. I looked behind me, towards Jack. Still sleeping.

"Would you like to come sit down? Then I can help you find your way back." The man followed me to where I had been sitting before. He looked around, and I almost thought he had seen Jack, but after staring at the branch he was sitting on, he kept moving, not making any comments to show he had seen the boy.

I sat down on the ground. "Why would you go hiking in this snow?"

Duff sat on a log next to where I was, and explained, "I'm a photographer. I wanted to get pictures, but I wanted fresh snow, without any footprints. So I had to be a little creative. I figured no one would be on the trails, and I was right. Unfortunately, now I know why."

"Where's your camera?"

He slung his backpack off from his back, dropping it in front of him. He began to dig through the bag until he pulled out a smaller bag. Out of that bag he brought out his camera.

"May I see?" He handed it to me carefully, and I turned it on. I looked through some of the pictures he had taken, all of which were very pretty. I brought it to my face, and looked through the lens at the pond.

"I took photography in high school last year," I told Duff as adjusted the focus. I paused, staying perfect still, then I snapped the shot. I looked at the picture I had taken, which wasn't anything to be proud of, and then deleted it. "It was fun, but I think I prefer painting. So I'm back in Sculpture and Painting this year."

"You paint?" He accepted the camera back, and put it into its bag.

I nodded and said, "And sketch. I keep a sketchbook and doodle when I feel like it. It's a hobby really."

"Can I see?" I tensed up. My sketchbook was a very personal thing to me. Like a diary almost, my own stories told in pictures.

I looked down and lied, "Don't have it. I was too worried I'd ruin it in the snow."

Duff looked disappointed, but he let it go. I had a feeling that he knew I hadn't been telling the truth, and it made me uncomfortable.

I hurried to change the subject, since I was feeling a bit guilty for lying. "Do you live near here?"

He shook his head. "Nowhere close, actually. I attend high school in Colorado. It's in a tiny town called Red Feather Lakes."

"You're kidding. My Aunt Karen lives there!" Well, that was weird. "Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, I live there with my dad. I suppose in a town a small as Red Feather I should know your aunt, but I tend to be outdoors instead of socializing."

"Are you seriously only in high school?" Well, so much for thinking he was in his mid-twenties. "You're really tall for a high schooler."

"I promise, I'm only in high school." He grinned at me. "And I get the tall thing a lot. My dad's like this too, though he told me my mom was really short. Guess I lucked out on the gene pool."

"No kidding!" I suddenly remembered what I was supposed to be focusing on. "Oh, wait. Do you have a map? The ones they post on those trail bulletin boards, maybe?"

After another backpack search, he pulled out the cheap paper map. I took my pencil and circled where we are. "That's where we are. You need to walk back that way, straight northwest, and you should hit one of the trail markers."

"Thanks," Duff said. He reached out to take the map back.

"Oh," a thought occurred to me. I scribble my email address onto the map. "Here. Maybe next time I visit my Aunt Karen, I'll let you know and we could talk."

He smiled and said, "I'll email you so you have mine. Thanks for the help."

He stood up and put his backpack on his shoulders. He began to walk back towards the trees he had come from.

"Nice meeting you!" I called out to him, and he waved over his shoulder, before disappearing into the trees.

I stared at the spot he had disappeared at for a few minutes, lost in thought. He had actually been a pretty cool person. I'm glad he hadn't turned out into some sort of serial killer. Although, meeting in the middle of a forest was really strange. He had gotten really far off the trail.

I suppose Colorado had better marked trails. Ours were pretty beaten down. There had been talk of making them nicer, but no one wanted to waste tax money on something almost no one used.

I glanced over at Jack. He must have had a rough night yesterday. He was sleeping like the dead.

Twenty minutes later, and Jack still hadn't woken up. I was starting to shiver, and had decided to wake him up myself, when he fell off the branch, jolting himself awake. I was surprised he had fallen at all. His winds usually kept him safe if he dozed off. I ran over to him and got down on my knees.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes, squinting up at me. "Ow."

He tried to sit up, but I held him down. "Wait a second, Jack. I need to make sure your head is okay."

I held my fingers above his head. "How many?"

"This is stupid, let me up," He tried to get up again, but I held him down. "Fine! There's three."

I finally helped him into a sitting position. "You never fall out of trees, Jack. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Jack."

"It was just a bad dream, Bekah. Chill out." His eyes wouldn't meet mine. I glared at him.

"That isn't all of it, is it?" It was more of a statement than a question. Because I could tell when Jack told the truth. He usually wouldn't lie, since we trusted each other.

"Bekah," he sighed, and raked his fingers through his hair. "There's nothing to tell. I don't want to worry you for no reason."

"Is there something I should be worried about?"

"No. But knowing you, you would worry anyway." I frowned, but Jack had a point. I sometimes blew things way out of proportion. At least, when it concerned Jack or my mom. "Please, Bekah, I'll tell you if you need to know."

"Jack-."

"I promise!"

"Pinky promise?" I stuck out my pinky. I knew it would seem like I was testing him. I wasn't. He was just more likely to remember if I made him promise like this. He hesitated, but then he looped his pinky with mine, and we shook.

He relaxed now, knowing that I would drop the subject for the time being. "Let's get you home, you're freezing."

And I let Jack Frost fly me home, even though I really just wanted him to tell me what was bothering him. But I let him keep his secret, since I had kept Duff to myself. It seemed like a fair trade off, at the time. I didn't feel like sharing the fact I'd talked to some stranger while he took a nap. And he didn't want to talk about why he was acting like a freak. See? Fair trade.

The next few days went by in what felt like moments. There were snowball fights, and forts, and sneak attacks. The sneak attacks were mainly by me, since Jack felt like it was unfair to use his powers when I wasn't prepared for it. But once I started it, it was a fair game, so he would blast me with snow until I plead for mercy. Or, in the case that I was too stubborn to, which happened often, he would take me inside once I was too cold to move my fingers. Then, once I came back out, he would continue to throw snow at me until I surrendered.

This was the case on Sunday. I had went inside and warmed up in front of the fire, and then had charged back outside, fully expecting his attack.

That didn't mean that this particular plan didn't surprise me. He had sat on the roof, poking his head over the edge so that he could see me as soon as I stepped foot on the porch. Then, he had leaned his whole body over the edge, and had started rapid firing at me.

I let out a shriek, and threw myself sideways off the porch. I covered my head as I basically cannonballed into a snow drift. I stood up as quickly as I could, which is harder than you would expect, since the snow around my house was several inches deeper than at any other house on my street. I stumbled away from the porch, as snowball after snowball exploded on my back.

Once I was sure of my footing, I ran into the trees, hoping to use them as some sort of cover. I kept running, puffing out clouds of warm air with each step. I had hardly started running, but I needed a plan. I might have been visiting the gym more often since Friday, but I was still really out of shape. A few more minutes at this speed, and I would die. Or at least drop like the pathetic person I was. I risked a glance behind me, and saw Jack zooming after me.

_It isn't fair that he can fly, _I thought bitterly. But, I supposed it was my fault for causing all of this.

I continued running, and actually thinking I might get away this time, when Jack grabbed me around my waist and pulled me up into the sky. I fought him, but once I glanced down and realized we were really high up, I stopped. I didn't want to fall and go splat on the forest floor. I wrapped my arms around Jack, shooting a worried look towards the ground.

"Apologize," Jack grinned evilly. I huffed and shook my head. My pride wouldn't let me give in, no matter how he threatened me. "One more chance."

I glared at him, but kept my mouth shut. I was calling his bluff. I didn't think he would really drop me. Too violent for Jack. Even if he did, he'd save me before I hit the ground.

Jack gave me a moment, waiting for me. When he realized I wouldn't be convinced to say sorry, he chuckled. "Fine."

I clenched my eyes closed, expecting the falling sensation. So I was shocked when I felt we were rising, even higher than we had been before. I quickly shut my eyes, fighting the dizziness that was coming from being so high up. I buried my head into Jack's sweatshirt, worried I'd be sick.

"Oh, alright Jack! Take me down!"

"I didn't hear you." Jack seemed to be enjoying this.

"I'm sorry! Now let me down!" And then, since he was the predictable Jack Frost, he dropped me.

I screamed, hating the falling sensation. As I fell to my death, I listed all the reasons I hated Jack Frost. I was thoroughly disappointed that the only thought I could make was that he was a little irresponsible. Of course he was irresponsible. He was the essence of childhood.

I almost cried with relief when the air caught me, and lowered me to the ground. I flopped onto my back, not trusting my legs to keep me up. That was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to me. Well, not really. But in the moment, I had been pretty shaken up. Jack had dropped me before (always on purpose, of course) but never from so high. It made me wonder how sky divers lived.

Jack landed next to where I was, laughing. I gave him the death glare. "It's not funny, Jack!"

His face was scrunched up. Tears were in his eyes as he said, "Your face! I've never- You looked-."

He couldn't even finish the sentence, he was laughing so hard. I tried to keep glaring, but a giggle burst out. I blamed the adrenaline. But soon we were both laughing.

Once we both calmed down, I gasped at Jack. "Okay. I'm okay. Need air."

Jack smiled and helped me stand up me. I smiled back at him. It just wasn't possible to stay angry at him. He never did anything because he was mean. He just enjoyed having some fun, occasionally at my expense.

We started to walk through the woods, in the general direction of my house. We weren't too worried about time, since it wasn't even dark yet. We talked about school for me, though there wasn't much to say about that. I tried to avoid his questions as much as I could, instead asking him about other snow days in places outside of Texas.

He had some hilarious stories, about kids and snow balls and grandparents. The stories were sometimes interrupted by long fits of laughter, since it was hard to keep a straight face. Especially because of the way Jack told the stories. He used crazy gestures, sometimes stopping us so he could reenact a scene that was particularly funny. I was about to ask him for another story, but then we broke through the trees into my back yard. Back to the real world.

I threw a look at Jack, then jogged into my home. I walked through the back door and down the hallway. When I came into the kitchen I stopped. Our neighbor from down the street, Ms. Josie Mae, was cleaning spilled hot chocolate off of the floor.

"Ms. Mae?" I felt a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach, which had nothing to do with the weather. Something seemed off, like there was a tension in the air. I didn't like it. It wasn't unusual for neighbors to drop in, I was use to coming home and finding Mr. Webber fixing something, or Carol dropping off groceries if she thought I needed them. But Ms. Mae preferred to gossip, and my mother and I both found her horribly annoying. I wondered if my mom had called her over to help find me, or something. I had been out for several hours, but I thought I had left a note. Maybe she didn't find it?

"Are you Theresa's daughter?" I nodded, still confused as to why she was in my home.

"Now, I don't want you to freak out, sweetie. But your mother has had a stroke, and has been taken to the hospital."

My mind zoned in on that one word. Stroke. Oh, god. This couldn't be happening. Not again. I felt that choked feeling that came with trying to hold back tears. I looked away, trying to take a deep breath. I waited a moment, and then turned back to her.

"Is she okay?" My voice cracked at the end. Ms. Mae looked upset, and she pulled me into a hug.

"Oh, honey. Now, don't you worry. You and I are going to drive up to hospital, alright?" She let go of me, and turned back towards the kitchen. "Just let me get my purse, and we'll be on our way."

She grabbed her bag and her keys off the counter, then led me to her car. I noticed that Jack was following us, a worried look in his eye. He hadn't heard Ms. Mae, so he probably had no idea what was happening.

"I'll follow you." He whispered in my ear, even though Ms. Mae wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. I nodded, but I didn't care, for once, what Jack did. My mom was in the hospital, and I needed to get there.

I climbed into the minivan's passenger seat, impatiently waiting for Ms. Mae to start the car. She climbed into the car and glanced over at me. "Seat belt."

I snapped the seat belt in, and started to drum my fingers on the window. We backed down the drive way and began the fifteen minute drive to the hospital. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ms. Mae spoke up. "You need to relax. I can practically feel the nervous energy rolling off you."

I bit back a snappy reply. Her heart was in the right place, but I couldn't imagine why she would feel that what she had said was appropriate. My mom could be in a whole world of trouble, and I was worried. Of course I had extra energy to blow off. But I settled by bringing my fingers to my lap, and scratching at the chipping nail polish on my thumb.

Ms. Mae didn't seem to be able to handle the silence, and began to chatter to feel the time. She told me of how she had found my mom. She had come over to drop off some of her aunt's homemade jam, since she thought my mom and I might like it with toast. When mom hadn't answered the door, she had casually looked through our front window. When she still didn't see anyone, she had let herself through the front door, which was unlocked. She had found my mom on the floor in the kitchen, and had not hesitated to call 911.

I zoned out after that. I didn't care how many paramedics had shown up, or that the neighbors had all been watching, in groups around the yard. In that moment, I thought that Ms. Mae was the most irritating gossip that ever lived. But that was mostly just because I was upset.

Ms. Mae pulled through the hospital's roundabout entrance, and dropped me off. She had offered to help me inside, but I was seventeen, and perfectly capable of helping myself. And I didn't want her to hover over me, trying to get me to talk about how I feel. Especially since I couldn't decide on my feelings myself.

I was mainly worried. And scared. But I was also surprised. I thought my mom had been doing so much better lately. We had been so careful, exercising a little each day and eating healthier. I thought we were handling it.

I talked to the front desk to let them know I was here. The lady in charge told me that my mother wasn't ready for visitors, since the doctors were still examining her. I wandered towards the groups of chairs that were for people like me. People who were waiting for news.

I sat in a corner by myself. I kept my head down and didn't make eye contact with others. I absent mindedly picked at my nails. My mind kept going in circles, but I tried not to let myself think about how the next twenty four hours might change my life. Instead, I sat and prayed.

After almost an hour of sitting, I glanced around the waiting room. I was surprised to see Jack leaning against a wall, watching me. I hadn't felt him come in, and it was practically impossible to miss Jack. He walked around in his own personal freeze. Just being in the room with him dropped the temperature several degrees. I must have been out of it to not even notice.

Jack made his way over to me and sat beside me. He didn't try to speak or make me feel better like he usually would, which I was grateful for. He must have realized how serious this was. Instead, he hugged me quickly, and then sat back and stared at the wall.

A lady, a nurse I presumed, came and asked if there was anyone she should call for me. Without knowing who else to call, I told them my aunt's number, and she hurried off to contact her.

Jack asked if I should go get something to eat, but I ignored the question and leaned my head against the wall, and let myself take a quick rest. I just wanted a few minutes of nothing. No worry, no problems, no fears. But I should have known that sleeping wouldn't offer me any relief.

**A/N: I've proof read this like twelve times, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I think it's time for this story to get going, actually MOVING. So I know this chapter is kind of awkward, and I am sorry about that. It was hard to write.**

**And it may be a while to update, because theatre is going to be crazy these next two weeks. I know. I'm a mess. **

**Anyway, lots of love y'all's way!**


	5. Chapter 5

I had a nightmare, or maybe daymare. No surprise there. They always got worse with stress. If you're afraid while awake, why should you expect anything else when your subconscious takes control? I jerked awake with a gasp, no sure of what had scared me, but left with that familiar icky feeling generally associated with my bad dreams. I shivered, and pulled the jacket I'd never taken off closer to me.

It wasn't because of Jack, but he still shifted away from me. Probably because he hadn't known I'd had a nightmare. I shrugged it off, too tired with this whole business to worry about Jack. He probably knew this already, because he didn't look upset at my muteness. Instead he entertained himself by frosting the windows over and over again.

I pulled out my phone and began absent-mindedly flipping through my text messages. I had a lot, apparently Ms. Mae had spread the word about my mother's health. I mass deleted text from people who were all saying the same thing. It's not like any of these people cared. They were probably gossiping behind her back, and using her as an example to their kids as to why they shouldn't smoke. Jerks.

I did make an effort, though. I'm not so awful that I want to come off as some snotty hothead. Before I deleted the messages, I sent out one text to everyone to say thanks for the thought. Luckily, my phone was one of the old ones, so each text got sent separately instead of as a group message. Otherwise, I would have had to respond individually to each one so they wouldn't be insulted.

I also saw a group of messages from my aunt, telling me she was getting on the first flight to Texas. It mostly consisted of her telling me her flight number and what time she expected to arrive at the hospital to get me. Still, she wouldn't be here until early morning the next day.

I was ready to stretch my legs, and considering taking a walk to find a vending machine, when a nurse quickly made her way over to me. She was holding several sheets of paper in her arms, and her hair was a mess. She'd probably been working the day shift. Seeing that it was nearing seven o'clock, I could understand why she looked tired and upset. Working at a hospital wasn't always the most gratifying job.

"Are you the daughter of a Mrs. Theresa Brown?"

"Yes ma'am. Is there any news?" I felt myself become anxious again, and I tried to control my emotions.

She pursed her lips and glanced down at the paper she held. She took a pen out of her pocket and scratched something onto the top page, and then glanced back at me. "Is your father here? Or some other adult?"

I shook my head, too tired to explain that I didn't have a dad. "I'm all she's got. At least until my aunt gets here."

Her face brightened a little. "So there is a relative coming?"

"Yes, but not until tomorrow morning."

She frowned, and replied, "Then I suppose the doctor will speak to you. If you will follow me."

I stood up and followed her down several hallways. Once we reached a hallway that was outside of several patient's rooms, she led me to a few chairs against the wall. She left me with a nod and a curt, "The doctor will be with you shortly."

Great. More waiting.

I looked around, seeing if there was anything to take my mind off of the doctor. There were several doors, each with a number and a sheet of paper. I stood up and walked closer, reading someone's name, printed in neat handwriting. These must be the patient's rooms!

I looked up and down the hall, making sure no one was watching me. I tried to convince myself I could walk up and down the hall. Even if the lady had told me to sit. I was just… stretching my legs. That was all. And if I happened to see a familiar name, like, I don't know, Theresa Brown, than why wouldn't I be able to peek into her room?

I slowly walked, trying to look natural. I resisted the urge to whistle, since I felt like I already looked obvious enough. I strolled past several doors, some of them empty, before I found my mom's.

I reached out my hand and took the knob, and was preparing myself for whatever was on the other side, be it good or ill, when someone yanked me away from the door. I stumbled back, and was only saved by a well-placed nudge from Jack. I looked around to see who had pulled me, but Jack was the only one there.

I glared at him, "What was that for?"

"Just keeping you out from trouble."

I snapped, "I was just looking!"

He put his hands on my shoulder, making me look at him. "I know what you were doing. But the doctor's in there with her, right now. If you had taken the time to listen, you would know that!"

Now that he pointed it out, I could hear someone walking around inside, setting things down, and talking. It sounded like mainly a one-sided conversation, with a man's voice.

I was about to respond to Jack, but the door behind me was opened. I spun around, and came face to face with a balding man in his late forties. He was holding a clip board in his hand, and was staring at me critically.

"What is your business here?" He demanded. I winced at his tone. He sounded like a reprimanding teacher, right before they sent you to the principal's office.

I glanced around nervously, before blurting out, "That's my mom!"

"Excuse me?"

"My mother. Theresa Brown. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have been snooping around, but that's my mom, and she's all I got, and I'm worried sick-," I took a breath, trying to slow down my words so that he might be able to understand them. "Is she alright?"

The man's eyes softened, and a sad look came into his eyes. "Why don't we sit down?"

I stood my ground, a sense of panic surging through me. "Is. She. Alright?"

He glanced down at his clip board, his hands tightening around it. He sighed and lifted his hands to his face. He rubbed his eyes, obviously exhausted. "What's your name, child?"

"Bekah," I whispered.

"And I'm Doctor Chaves. I'm not suppose to discuss patients with their children. How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen. I'm no child. And there isn't anyone else. We're all we've got. We're family. Is she going to be okay?"

"Bekah, I'm very sorry. But I'm afraid there's nothing to be done with your mother. We haven't received her C.T. yet, but she is either deep within a coma, or possibly brain dead. I'm so sorry."

I just stared. A roaring sound filled my ears, and I began to gasp for air.

"I- I don't understand. My mom- she can't be-." I couldn't form a complete thought, a complete sentence. I felt numb, confused, shocked.

"Bekah, are you alright?" Dr. Chaves put his hands onto my shoulders, as if to steady me.

I stared at the door behind him. My mom was in there. Or her body was there. Either way, there wasn't a thing I could do. She was gone. I felt my eyes well up with tears, and I didn't even try to hide them.

I felt dizzy. This was too much to process. Too much to take in.

"I think," I mumbled. "I'm not feeling so well."

Then my legs refused to hold me up, and the doctor's hands were the only thing that kept me from hitting my head when I blacked out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I woke up, my head foggy and my face wet. I reached out to wipe whatever it was away. But they were tears. I looked at my hand, which held a perfect tear on it.

And then I remembered where I was. The hospital.

And it was as though my brief lapse in sanity had forced my thoughts into clarity. I wasn't confused anymore. And I now realized that shock had been keeping me safe. Because understanding was so much more painful.

I inhaled sharply, and looked over. Someone had placed me on the extra bed in the room that my mom was in. I turned away, not wanting to see my mom lying lifeless on a hospital bed. I turned over on my other side. And sitting in a chair next to me was Jack. He stared at me, his face blank.

"Jack?" I whispered. I winced when my voice came out raspy and weak.

"Bekah." He looked down at his hands, and then back to me. "I'm so s-."

"No." I stopped him. "Don't say it. Don't say you're sorry. Don't. Because- Because that means this is real. That means my mom's really over there. That she'd really had a stroke. That she's practically a vegetable-."

My voice broke pathetically. I buried my face in my hands, pulling my knees up to my chest. I wanted to hide somewhere, far away from this. I wanted to be alone to grieve. Most of all, I didn't want Jack, of all people to see me like this. I didn't want him to see me torn up and messed up. I didn't want him to watch while the only child to ever see him broke.

_Hold yourself together. _I hugged myself tighter. I felt like I was trying to hold the pieces of me in place, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. No person should have to deal with this. And I knew that I couldn't.

I felt a pair of cold arms wrap around me. Jack. He held me together as I cried.

"How could this happen?" I sobbed into Jack's chest. "I spoke with her this morning. She was fine! She felt good, better even. This- I don't- How?"

He climbed next to me, and rocked me. He didn't speak, but he didn't have to. In fact, I was grateful that he didn't. And for once, I wasn't worried that someone might walk in and see. Who cared anyway?

Eventually, my sobs quieted down, a Jack helped me sit up. We went slowly, to keep me from getting a head rush. I stared at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact or talk. Jack went across the room, around the other bed, and into the bathroom. He reappeared with a paper cup filled with cold water. I accepted it with a quiet thanks and sipped it. It was cold and felt good going down my throat.

It made me realize that I hadn't had anything to eat and drink since being dropped off at the hospital. That was over four hours ago, not to mention I had missed lunch because I was strategizing how to actually win a snow ball fight against Jack. So, since breakfast, all I'd had was a cup of hot chocolate. No wonder I felt so awful.

Well, that, and the fact that my mom was-.

No. Don't think about it.

I glanced up at the sound of the door opening, and watched as the doctor from before, along with a young nurse. The nurse walked over to my mom, and the doctor came over to me.

"How are you feeling? Any dizziness?"

I shook my head. "I'm so sorry about that. I haven't actually fainted before. I just haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"And that is more than enough to cause that." Dr. Chaves seemed to accept my explanation. He turned towards the nurse. "Nancy, when you're through checking the machines, please run to the cafeteria and get Ms. Bekah something to eat."

The nurse nodded and scurried out of the room.

The doctor pulled a chair in front of the bed I was still sitting on. "I think we should talk about your mother's care now."

Bekah didn't respond, and the doctor took that as consent to continue. "Your mother, as I'm sure you know, has suffered her second stroke in a year. We believe that this was brought on by a shock to her system. A fright, so to say."

"You mean my mother was frightened into this?" I didn't think that sentence came out in a grammatical English way, but the doctor appeared to understand what she was asking.

"Yes, at least that's what we think. We aren't certain, of course."

"Oh."

"Anyway, we tried to help her once she got here, but I'm afraid she's in a coma of sorts. It's very strange, but it seems as though she's retreated in herself. There were a few times when we thought she'd gone, but she always made it through. And thanks to these," He gestured to the papers in his lap. "We know she isn't brain dead."

"So she could wake up?" I felt the hope rising in my chest.

"Well, it's possible," his next statement squashed the little bit of hope left. "But it's a very small chance, so we have to make plans for you."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you need to stay with a legal adult until your mom's better."

"But I'm seventeen! I don't have much longer until I'm a legal adult myself." I couldn't believe that this doctor was trying to push me off to another adult already. My mom was hardly gone for half a day, and already I was going to get shuffled off to the first volunteer.

I glared at him. "I refuse. I refuse to leave my mom here, by herself. She needs someone here when she wakes up."

"_If _she wakes up. Ms. Bekah, you need to realize that my hands are tied. You are not legally allowed to live in a hospital, and you can't live at home alone. I spoke with a few nurses, and learned that you had an aunt coming. Is this correct?"

"Yes, my Aunt Karen. But she's not someone who deals with responsibility very well. I'd be better living by myself."

"It's only until you turn eighteen. We'll discuss this in more depth when a child service representative and your aunt are here."

The conversation was halted when the nurse, Nancy, returned with a tray. She set it on my lap, and told me to eat up.

"You're welcome to the bed, at least for tonight." The doctor said, then they both left the room together.

I wasn't hungry, at least, I had lost my appetite, but I tried my best to eat, since even though I didn't want to. I would need it. Under the watchful eyes of Jack, I finished my meal.

Jack helped me lie back, despite the fact that I was perfectly fine. It wasn't very late, nearing eight thirty, but I didn't complain. Today had been exhausting. I was ready for it to be over.

All was quiet for few minutes. Then I interrupted the silence. "Jack?"

He scooted closer to me, his chair scraping the floor. "Yes, Bekah?"

"I'm so sorry you had to see that." I yawned.

"What do you mean?"

"That-." I wasn't exactly sure. "Mess. I didn't mean to completely break down. I'm usually much better with my feelings."

"Bekah," Jack looked surprise. "Are you honestly apologizing for having feelings?"

I thought for a moment. "I suppose so."

"Please, don't. It's more than understandable. It's expected."

"But-."

He cut me off. "Bekah, I can't imagine going through what you're going through right now. Furthermore, I would never make it through without someone else. I'm more than your friend. I'm whatever you need me to be, and if that's a shoulder to cry on, than that's what I'll be. You shouldn't keep stuff like this in, it isn't healthy. So don't ever apologize because you have feelings."

He stood up and pulled the hospital sheets up to my chin. He placed a kiss on my forehead, and said, "Now get some sleep. Please, you need it."

I didn't argue. I let myself fall into a deep sleep, and was blessed with the comforting blackness that meant the nightmares wouldn't be coming for me. Not with Jack here to protect me.

**A/N: Bleh. I'm so tired of theatre stuff. That's why I've been so busy. So sorry about that!**

**This chapter is way shorter than my others, but I really tired of angsty-teenagey Bekah. So I want to get through this and on with the story. Because- well I hated writing this, and you can probably tell. So... yay! It's done. And Bekah seems rude at the beginning, but she's under a load of stress and such. So I allowed it. Usually I try to keep my writing from becoming a vindictive little thing, but Bekah sorta became it there. So, whoops.**

**I'm off to go paint a chair. Cheers!**


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up to a woman's shrill voice. "Oh my god!"

I groaned and rolled over, not happy with be woken up with such a high pitched sound. I cracked open my eyes, and was surprised to see I was not in my bedroom. Everything was white, and clean. I looked around for a clock, finally giving up and digging out my phone from my wrinkled jeans. I flipped it open, forcing my blurry eyes to focus.

6:30. Why was I awake?

"Oh, Bekah! You poor dear!" And that's how I found myself being smothered by my aunt. I gaped and shot up, not use to this kind of wake up call.

"Aunt? What are you-?" Suddenly everything that had happened last night blasted through my mind. "Oh."

Aunt Karen hugged me tightly, then sat back. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her face was puffy and red. I probably looked no better. "I came as soon as I could. Sweetie, I can't believe this happened."

She couldn't speak after that, apparently she didn't want to cry in front of me. She turned as if to give me space, but I grabbed her wrist. "Aunt Karen, please don't leave me."

I no longer had tears, since it seemed as though I had cried all throughout the night. But I knew better than to let Aunt Karen go deal with her grief by herself. This is where I was comfortable. I may not want to grieve myself, but I was more than capable to help console others. I'd had my break down. Now was the time to bottle up those emotions, and shove them deep into the back of my mind. It may make my nights harder, considering my subconscious would not let me forget, but if I could get through the days, it would be worth it.

I wasn't someone who liked public displays of emotion. When I was alone, then I would be able to properly mourn. Until then, I would put on my brave face, and I would keep it up until I didn't have an audience.

Aunt Karen sat down next to me, and I held her hand while she cried for her sister. And throughout it all, I kept my mind blank. I refused, _blatantly refused_, to cry in front of hospital staff or Jack. Though, from looking around, he seemed to have left sometime during the time I was sleeping. Which made me feel very unsettled. Jack didn't tend to leave suddenly, and never without a goodbye.

Finally, my aunt calmed down enough to sit back. She pulled out a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. "There now, enough of that. It isn't as though we have no hope."

She cleared her throat and put both of her hands over mine. I looked down at them, with all the jewelry, and the peek of the tattoo wrapped around her wrist. From her "more rebellious days" my mom had said. "We'll make this through this, you and I. I know it."

I nodded, and offered her a hesitant smile. "Of course. And my mom will be okay, no matter what the doctors say."

I didn't believe it, but I could tell the mere thought that I might perked my aunt up. She stood up and looked towards my mom. "Well, we have to fix this room up. Until your mother wakes up, that is. I'll order some flowers before we leave, and maybe you could bring some personal things? I've already made sure that she gets this as a private room -."

"Leave? We're going to leave so soon?"

"Dear, we have to get you settled in Colorado. You'll be transferred to the school in Red Feathers Lake immediately. It isn't the most convenient thing to be doing, especially since it isn't second semester yet, but considering the circumstances, I'm sure the school will understand."

But I wasn't ready. I couldn't just pick up and leave. I had grown up here. How had everything gotten so mixed up? How had my life been so thrown out of whack?

But I began to realize this wasn't a sudden occurrence, not really. My life had been changing ever since my mom's original stroke. Since I'd had to grow up and accept responsibilities that most seventeen year olds didn't have. I had known that this had always been a possibility. And now it had happened. But it was like my Aunt Karen said. We did have the smallest sliver of hope.

And I would hold onto that hope as though my life depended on it.

I squared my shoulders. "Alright. May I take your car and go grab my mom some things?"

"Sure. I'll sit up here with her. Maybe read her some of these magazines I took from the airplane."

I took the keys from her purse and left my aunt in the room. As I walked to the elevator and out the front of the hospital, I considered what would happen to me now. I loved my aunt, but she was not my mother. She was not a maternal figure. Living with her would more closely resemble living with a roommate, not a guardian. I couldn't expect too much in a parental aspect.

I sighed and walked to the rental my aunt had obviously picked up at the airport. I wasn't surprised that she forgot I wasn't old enough to drive a rented car, since you were supposed to be over twenty-one. Something about new drivers not being responsible enough. Not that I cared. I was a very responsible driver. Still, showed how great a parent she would be. Couldn't remember the simplest thing.

I wasn't surprised when Jack dropped down beside me. I had become accustomed once again to him dropping out of nowhere. He silently followed me to the rental car, which was blue, and climbed into the passenger seat. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, beginning the fifteen minute trek back home.

I risked a glance off the road to look at Jack. I noticed something off. "Where's your staff?"

His head shot up. "What? Oh, well, I must have left it, somewhere."

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I shot a glare at him before focusing on the road again. "You're lying."

"No I'm not! That's the truth!"

"But it isn't the whole truth. Therefore, you're lying by omission." It hurt that he wouldn't tell me what was happening. I hadn't forgotten that he had refused to tell me about the other strange things that were happening to him. Like when he had fallen out of the tree, or that he had completely left me last night. "What the heck is happening to you? You won't tell me what happened over the last year, or why you keep disappearing at night. And don't tell me it's to 'bring winter to others' because I know that isn't the only reason."

"Bekah, I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Fine," I whispered.

"Bekah, I would if I could-."

"No," I cut in. "You don't have to apologize to me. It isn't as though we share all our secrets with each other anyway. You're as welcomed to yours as I am to mine."

I flashed him a tight smile. It was petty for me to get angry at something like this. Besides, I didn't tell him about Duff. I had no right to demand things of him, and so I wouldn't. I wouldn't overreact. "Honestly, Jack. I'm not upset at you. I'm just emotionally drained."

"You sure?" He looked doubtful.

I rolled my eyes. "Jack, it isn't as though I completely cracked."

"Yeah. It's kind of scary how calm you are right now. Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"

"Jack, talking about my mother would not be a particularly good idea. Especially if I want to stay sane."

"You know that I just want you to be happy, but I really think you should talk about this, to someone at least. It doesn't have to be me, but please don't torture yourself over this because you don't want anyone to know you're hurting."

He knew me so well. I sighed and thought for a moment. "Jack, if it makes you fill better, I'll talk to someone about it, okay? But please, not right now."

"Do what you need to do." I felt as though he wanted to press the issue, but was glad he didn't. I'm not sure I wanted to ever talk about this. Maybe if I didn't think about it, it wouldn't be real. But I knew, deep down, that it was more likely my mom would never wake up, never talk to me again.

My mother could very well die in a coma, and I would never get to say goodbye. Not how I wanted to, anyway. I couldn't even remember the last words I had said to her. It could have been something so stupid, like telling her to go to sleep or to eat her food. It should have been something important. I should have told her how much I loved her. Of course, she knew, but I needed to know that she knew.

"Pull over." I heard Jack whisper. I glanced over. Why did Jack look so foggy?

I reached up and wiped at my eyes. Oh. Some time in my inner monologue, I had begun to cry.

Jack reached across the dash and tugged at the wheel, helping me pull the car over to the side of the road. I put it in park, and leaned against the steering wheel, squeezing my eyes shut. I sat without moving for a few moments, and then sat up. I turned in my seat to look at Jack. He had an unrecognizable look on his face. Almost like sympathy, but there was more to it.

"Jack. I know I'm not good with dealing with emotions." I hated how pathetic I sounded. I hated everything about this situation, quite frankly. "And, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but I can't deal with this by myself, and I know you're busy, especially in winter, but I just can't-."

"Bekah," Jack cut me off. He reached out and took my hands in his. "You can ask me whatever you need to. And you know I'll do anything in my power to do what you ask for."

I took a breath and said, "Stay with me in Colorado. Please don't leave me. Not soon, at least."

His eyes softened, and he gave a comforting squeeze to my hands. "If that's what you need, then of course I'll stay."

"Thank you." We stayed like that for a minute, before I cleared my throat and gently removed my hands. "Well, let's go then."

I put the car back into drive, and started towards my house again. We sat silently for the rest of the ride, which wasn't very long after that. When I reached my home, I stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I walked up the porch, trying to ignore everything people had left for me. There were flowers and baskets, and too many candles. I kicked a larger, cream one, sending it flying across the porch. It hit the wall and snapped, leaving broken wax on the ground.

"I hate candles," I said angrily. "It's like everyone's already accepted she's gone. Candles are for _funerals. _My mom isn't dead!"

"I know," Jack replied. He waved his hand, and I watched as the wind picked up the broken candle and carried it away. "Why don't you grab what you need, and I'll take all this and put it away somewhere."

"The garage?"

"Sure." I nodded my thanks and walked inside, kicking my shoes off at the door. There was no reason to trek muddy footprints around the house. Jack hadn't made it snow again, and so the snow we had ran through yesterday was brown and ugly.

_Fits my mood perfectly, _I thought to myself. I walked past the kitchen and up the stairs. I'd grab a few of my things first, before getting stuff from mom's room.

I walked into my room. I glanced around, a bit confused. Was my room always this messy? I shrugged and walked towards my dresser. Maybe time away just makes you realize how much of a slob you are. I dug through my clothes, pulling out a t-shirt and jeans. I quickly changed out of my clothes from the day before, and threw them into my hamper. Who knew when I would be able to empty that again?

I grabbed my backpack off the desk and glanced inside. No sketch pad. I looked around the room. Where had I put that thing? I knew I hadn't taken it out yesterday during my escapade with Jack. So it had to be somewhere around here.

I looked everywhere. My bed side table, in my closet, even in the bathroom. It wasn't there.

"Jack?" I called out, hoping he was in the house and would hear me.

"Yes?" He appeared at my door almost immediately. He must have ridden his winds to get there that fast.

"Do you remember if I might have left my sketch pad somewhere?"

"The one you carry practically everywhere?" I nodded and he paused, thinking. "No, I don't think so. You're always very careful to put it away when you're done."

"Oh," I threw my hands up in the air. "I need to find it! Jack, check the kitchen, would you? I'll look through the room again."

Jack wordlessly left the room, and I began to search in earnest. I had looked through the bookshelf, through all my desk drawers, and had decided to look under my bed. I sometimes kept it on the table, so maybe it had fallen off.

I was on the ground and pushing the crud under my bed around, when I noticed it.

"What is this?" I pinched something off the rug. I sat up and rubbed my fingers together. "Is this- sand?"

"What?" Jack stood behind me.

"I swear, something has decomposed under my bed." I pointed to the small pile of- get this- black sand. Looking around, there were actually several piles of the stuff. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "I'm in need for a serious clean. This is just gross."

I was surprised that my comment didn't get a laugh. He didn't even grant me a smile. Maybe he actually thought I was a slob. Which was a believable explanation, considering how trashed my room was.

"Jack?"

I started getting worried when he hadn't replied. He was also, well, he was always pale. But coupled with the horrified look on his face, and he looked like he had seen death or something.

"Um," I let out a nervous laugh. "I was joking. About the decomposing? I swear, I don't keep dead things in here, or anything. Just a joke."

He let out a strangled laugh, which left me even more freaked out than before.

"Alright then. I'll just go get the rest of my stuff. You just keep… doing what you're doing?"

I all but ran out of the room. I kept the quick pace up until I was down the stairs, and right outside of my mom's room. It was only then that I paused, hand outstretched towards the doorknob.

It felt wrong. It felt like I should not have been entering this room, not without my mom waiting inside. I never went in here without her, there was no reason to. Except, now there was.

I opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind me. I don't know why, but quietness felt like the most appropriate thing right now. As though if I didn't make a noise, it would somehow improve the situation.

I tiptoed across the room to her bed, careful not to upset anything unless absolutely necessary. If her mother woke up, she would probably like her room to look the way it had before she had been taken off to the hospital.

_Not if, _I tried to convince myself. _When._

I took her wedding ring off the bed side table. She never wore it on her finger anymore, but she liked to keep it close to her anyway. She had eventually put it onto a silver chain, so that she could wear it around her neck. Closer to her heart, she had told me once. But it was uncomfortable to wear while lying down, so she usually put it on the table, where she could still see it. She must have forgotten to put it back on.

I put it careful into the pocket of my mom's purse. I also slipped in the book of poetry and my mom's eye glasses. Then I snuck out of my mom's room as quietly as I snuck into it.

I went back to my room, to find Jack, but he wasn't there. Neither was he in the kitchen, the living room, or on the porch.

First I had lost my sketch pad, next I had lost the spirit of winter. I was a mess.

I finally found a note, thrown on my desk.

_B-_

_There was an emergency. Had to leave. I'll explain later._

_-JF_

I looked at the note, confused. What could a person like Jack have to do that couldn't have waited? At least until he had actually spoke to me? For Pete's sake, he was invisible to almost everyone, everywhere. Except for the Guardian's, but he hated them more than he hated beaches. What on earth did he need to do, freeze America?

I ripped up the note and threw it in the trash can beneath my desk. I took my mom's purse and keys, and walked downstairs. Before I left, I put a cup of Doggy Chow into Max's bowl and left it out on the porch. Max tended to roam around my neighborhood, begging for treats from unsuspecting old ladies. We had never kept too close of tabs on him. He was welcomed to come and go as he pleased, but usually as it got colder he would stay around more.

I left the house, locking the door behind me. There was no way I would wait for Jack to get back from his "emergency." Who knew when he'd get back? He could find me at the hospital, or better yet, not find me at all.

_Don't be spiteful, _I chided myself.

And so I forced a smile, even though no one was watching. Chances are, if you're smiling, your mood will improve.

It didn't really work, but I kept at it anyway. Maybe it worked later rather than sooner?

But I arrived at the hospital, still fuming over Jack. It was plain rude to leave someone less than half an hour after you promised them you wouldn't. It wasn't as though I was being irrational. I waited almost nine months of the year for him to be able to come and visit. Usually it was so wonderful once he was there that I didn't care of the time I had to patiently wait for him.

But this entire visit had been different. Not only had my mom officially been declared "comatose," but Jack hadn't been there. Not really. It was as though he was always flying off at night to do other things. And even when he was physically there, sometimes it seemed as though his mind were miles away.

I parked the rental and went inside. Instead of taking the elevator, since I wasn't sure I could take the suffocating feeling that came with it, I started up the stairs. Mom was only on the fourth floor, so taking the elevator was just me being lazy anyway. But climbing stairs did not distract me anymore than an elevator would have. And my mind quickly returned to Jack.

_Maybe he's visiting someone else._

The thought had me stop dead, halfway between one landing and the next. I leaned against the railing, needing all my focus for this surprising thought.

Of course, I had no way of being sure, but maybe that's what had Jack so excited. He left me at night, so that he could go and play with some other miracle child who could see him. An actual kid, who would want to build snowmen with him and have snowball fights. Who was still young, so they would be able to see him.

I had never admitted it to Jack, but I was terrified one day he would come, and I would no longer be able to see him. Or know he was there. I was afraid it wasn't just a matter of believing. What if one day, life just decided I was too _old? _So I would never begrudge him the chance for someone else to see him.

But now, that I actually considered it a possibility, it hurt. I was selfish enough to want Jack for myself. Even though I knew how desperately he wanted to be seen. Because-.

_Because once he has a child again, why would he want to spend any time with some messed up teenager?_ Sometimes I wish I could shut up my head. Turn it off for a little while. Because not only was I completely truthful and brutally honest with myself, I was also right.

Funny how that works.

I shoved the thought away. This wasn't the time to worry about something that probably had not even happened. And even if it had, I would be happy for Jack. Because he deserved it. If any of those stupid guardian spirit things deserved happiness, then it was Jack. And Jack had told me often enough that having believers was all he ever had wanted. My own feelings of rejection be darned.

I took a few breaths, willing myself to look calm and peaceful. If I looked to sad or disappointed when I entered the room, Aunt Karen would notice. Then she would probably want to critically analyze everything I felt. And there was no way to correctly analyze rejection from someone only I could see.

I walked into the room to find my aunt asleep in a plastic chair next to my mom's bed, loosely holding her hand. For all the craziness that was Aunt Karen, I couldn't denied that she and my mom had been very close their whole lives. This must be eating my aunt up.

I deposited my mom's things on the table. My aunt must have heard me come in, because she sat up, straightening her clothes and patting down her hair.

"Oh, it's just you." My aunt look relieved. "I was worried it was one of those pesky nurses. They keep coming in here and making a racket. And they don't seem to be doing anything."

"Aunt, just let the nurses do their jobs." But I smiled at her, to let her know I was joking. Mostly.

I pulled a chair up next to her, and sat down. She left one of her hands holding my mom's, and the other grabbed one of mine. My aunt was very into those touchy-feely things. Holding hands, giving hugs, talking about feelings, the whole sha-bam. So basically, the complete opposite of me.

"So," she began hesitantly. "I was wondering if we might need to rent a truck and drive back to Colorado. Depending on how many things you need to bring. I was thinking we might leave tomorrow morning. That way you could be back in school by next week. I still need to call the principal, but it should be fine."

I nodded, not really listening. Until I realized she was waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry, was there a question?"

"No, not exactly." She smiled, but it looked pained. Like smiling in a hospital room automatically made it look weaker. "Should I rent a truck to drive some of your things back to Colorado? I came by plane, but I suppose we can't do that if you need to bring something bigger."

"Um," I tried to think of anything large I would need. "Well, I guess I would need a bed?"

"Oh, no. I've already got the basics. Bed, dresser, desk, shelving. All of that. I just meant personal things. Like, anything that can't be replaced?"

"I could probably fit everything into a suitcase. Or two. But will I be able to go clothes shopping once we get there? I don't think my Texas clothing is suitable for anywhere but Texas."

"Of course! Just bring any jeans you have. No need to buy too many more of those. Though I don't personally think you can have enough of them." Then it was as though what I said finally caught up with her. She smiled, a real one this time. "And that means we can still fly! Which is good. I hate being crammed into a car for hours on end."

"We can go by the house again tomorrow morning," she continued. "You can do what you need to do, grab what you need to grab, and I'll deal with the dog. I've made arrangements for him to stay with a neighbor. Oh what was the name again? Webber? I think that was it."

I zoned out after that, as she talked about how much I would like her house, and the school. How sweet the kids my age were. As if I would be interested in making friends.

_Maybe, this time you should be._ I allowed myself a small smile at the thought. Who said that Colorado had to be the same as here? Maybe I could actually have friends, who did normal things. After all, Duff lived there. He probably would be shocked that I suddenly moved, less than a week after meeting him. But maybe after that, maybe we could actually be friends.

I hardly could dare to hope. It seemed as if I was doing a lot of hoping lately. But I suppose hoping was better than hopelessness.

_So you should try to be friendly. _Maybe good could come from this. If my mom was okay, I might actually be excited.

**A/N: Okay. I'm pretty sure Bekah is officially bipolar. Hmm. I'll work on that, promise!**

**Also, I edited this myself, so it's practically unedited. I'm really sorry, but it's late, and (insert all possible excuses as to why my editing is crap).**

**So lots of love, and sorry for not posting in a week (or a week and a day, whichever it is). Critiques are welcomed, because it makes me better!**


	7. Chapter 7

**JACK POV**

Jack had just reentered the room, when he noticed Bekah on the floor. He didn't know why she would be looking for the drawing pad, or whatever it was called, under her bed. Who drew under their bed? He walked closer, to see what she was looking at. Jack stopped in shock as he saw what she was holding in her hand. Nightmare sand.

"What is this? Is this- sand?"

"What?" But it couldn't be. To have this much sand in one place- well, there were only two explanations. Either Pitch himself had been here, or she had been having nightmares for months!

Usually, children couldn't see the sand left over from dreams or nightmares. Well, some could see the dream sand, depending on how old they were or if they still believed in the guardians or not. But since they had defeated Pitch last spring, no child could see anything which would have involved Pitch. The fact that Bekah could see it could mean bad news. Even though she'd always been special, she'd been able to see Jack since before he was even a guardian, this couldn't be good.

"I swear, something has decomposed under my bed. I'm in need for a serious clean. This is just gross."

Jack needed to tell the other guardians. He needed to tell them now. What if this meant Bekah was in some sort of danger? Nightmares weren't something to mess around with. Even if she didn't understand, she needed help.

_Maybe, _he thought. _Sandman has been missing her for some reason? Leaving her at the mercy of nightmares?_

"Jack?"

He barely heard Bekah speak, and wasn't paying attention. Even on his best days, paying attention was a chore. Factor in the possibility that one of his only human friend could be in trouble, and there was no chance of someone having a conversation with him. Even if it was said human friend.

"Um," She laughed nervously. "I was joking. About the decomposing? I swear, I don't keep dead things in here, or anything. Just a joke."

He needed to respond! She was already looking at Jack as though he'd grown an extra head, and a foot to go with it.

Jack tried to laugh, but it wasn't very natural. He actually sounded kind of sick.

Jack prided himself on his ability of being able to stay collected in any situation. He had to be able to stay calm. He had learned fast, especially when he was constantly having to explain himself to people like Bunnymund and Good Ole' Saint Nick. Toothy and Sandman tended to stay out of any disciplining when it came to Jack and his trickster way, but Bunny was a serious problem sometimes.

_Focus, Jack!_

"Alright then. I'll just go get the rest of my stuff. You just keep… doing what you're doing?"

And she left, without Jack being able to open his mouth and say anything. He was Jack Frost, for goodness sake! He should have been able to fire off something sarcastic and funny, no matter what his state of mind was.

But Bekah could be in danger. And so his mind was in panic mode.

_Pull yourself together._

Jack mentally slapped himself. He had to be in control. To protect Bekah.

His mind set, he ripped a piece of blank paper out of a binder on Bekah's desk. Jack scribbled down a note, letting her know he was leaving, and threw it onto the desk. He only hoped she would be able to find it. Her desk was a mess, not that Jack was judging.

He flew out the window, his inner compass pointing him towards the North Pole. Headquarters.

Jack couldn't resist sending out flurries of snowflakes as he flew past little towns. He was going fast, way faster than he usually went. Jack preferred to go slow, enjoy himself, and have a little bit of fun. But for now, speed was necessary.

If Pitch was interested in Bekah, and it was possible he wasn't, then it would mean major trouble. Pitch never did anything without some motive. He was a tricky person, which was usually a compliment when coming from Jack. Not this time.

Pitch had almost destroyed all kid's happiness. If that doesn't scream evil, he also tried to destroy the guardians. And basically send the world back into the dark ages. Yeah, not a nice guy. Jack tried not to judge based on first impression, but if anyone saw the man, he thought it would be understandable as to why he's the spirit of fear and not the spirit of, say, love. Or cuteness. Nope, he's just your standard definition of all things terrifying.

And he was supposed to be _dead. _He had gotten attacked by his own nightmares! For once, Jack would just like the evil villain to stay dead. Not come back for revenge.

And if he was in fact back, spreading nightmares and fear, then it was Jack's responsibility, as a guardian, to protect the children in danger.

_You don't really handle responsibility well. _Jack knew this, of course. He was the spirit of fun, after all. And what was fun about being responsible? Nothing. But this wasn't what he had always expected being a guardian would be like. It was different, it was work, but it brought him a sense of happiness to know he was helping kids everywhere.

Jack flew even faster, fear for Bekah edging him on. He flew close to the ground, so close that even though he wasn't touching it, his winds kicked up the snow beneath him. He was getting closer. He couldn't see the Pole yet, but he felt it. Like a familiar aching in his bones, the power coming from North's workshop flowed around him. There was a reason North was one of the most believed of all of the spirits. He was so powerful that his home gave off its own shield of energy.

Jack finally touched down on the entrance to the North Pole. It had only taken him half an hour to rocket across America, but he still felt as though that was too long. If he were North or Bunny, he could have gotten there that much quicker.

He barged into the workshop, not bothering to knock. He doubted anyone would be able to hear him over all the sounds that filled the large room, anyway. He went around the large globe, dodging yeti carrying toys. He loved the clutter and bustle and noise. He thrived in it. But he didn't have time to fully appreciate how messy the workshop was.

He was on the ground floor, which meant he would have to get to the fourth balcony to find North, since his office was there. He would usually be in his office, checking the naughty list (which Jack could proudly boast of topping for over 300 years and counting) or designing toys. Stairs were overrated, so instead of even trying to find them, he took to the air. He spiraled around the globe, looking for North in case he was taking a round through the workshop, until he reached the fourth floor, and touched down.

"North!" He shouted, jogging towards the office. He walked in, again ignoring etiquette and forgetting to knock. "You in here buddy?"

"It told you, little man, do not call me 'Buddy,'" North turned his chair so he was facing Jack. "It sounds very American. I do not like."

In front of Jack was a large man. He wasn't really fat. He was just big. He was wearing a red coat lined with fur and a matching hat. And the only thing thicker than his beard was his accent. Sometimes, it was hard to tell what he was saying, due to how Russian he sounded. Luckily, the guardians tended to know how to communicate effectively with each other, despite their quirks.

Jack frowned. "We need to call a meeting."

North sat up, his interest peeked. "Why? You hate meetings."

"It's important, North! Now call the other guardians! I'll tell you all at the same time."

"Fine, fine," North said. He left the room for a few minutes, presumably calling the other guardians. Jack sat by the window, watching the skies. As soon as the northern lights appeared, he knew North had done as he said he would.

_The sooner the better, _he thought to himself. He already felt as though leaving Bekah alone at all was a bad idea. The longer he was away, the more he worried. And Jack wasn't a worrier, so that told you something. He just felt off.

North walked back in, along with something Jack wasn't expecting.

"My staff!" He literally flew across the room, taking it out of North's hand and cradling it as he floated down into a sitting position. He careful rubbed his finger across the smooth wood, instantly feeling peaceful. His staff was his only worldly possession, besides his hoody and pants.

"You left it at Jamie's home." North chuckled. "Tooth picked it up. Ran through neighborhood just so you would have it back. Good fairy."

Jack nodded, though he was hardly listening to North. He was inspecting his staff (it appeared to still be in prime condition). Ever since Pitch had broken it in the battle last spring, Jack had been a little overprotective of it. Sure, to most people it was a stick, but it was very important to him.

After he was positive his staff was fine, he sat back down, and waited for the other guardians to arrive. It didn't take long, Bunny being the first to arrive. He shot Jack an annoyed glare, and nodded at North. Next came Toothina, fluttering in surrounded by a mini tornado of Little Tooths. Finally, Sandman drifted in, having let his sandplane blow away with the wind.

"What is this about?" Bunny asked irritably. "It might only be November, but I've got lots to do, mate."

"Yes," Tooth waved her tiny selves away. "I have a seven day a week job to carry out. So let's wrap this up, if we could."

She smiled as she said it, managing to still look kind even though she was obviously stressed and overworked. There were no holidays for the Tooth Fairy.

"Well, actually." Everyone turned towards Jack. Originally, they had been addressing their questions to North. They looked very surprised to see Jack there, let alone participating. "I called the meeting."

It was as though Jack had told them that he had decided to become Cupid or something. The look of shock on their faces would have made Jack laugh, if he wasn't so indignant. "Yes. I can call a meeting. I chose not to come to all the others ones, I wasn't banned. You all act as though I've never shown interest in being a guardian.

The others just stared at him. Sandman thought of a rather elaborate slideshow of memories, all of them involving Jack showing how disinterested in being a guardian Jack was. He let it play out above his head, the other guardians nodding in agreement.

"All right, point taken. I have barely any interest concerning the more technical side of being a guardian. But this is important! It involves Pitch!"

Tooth gasped out loud. "But that isn't possible! He's dead!"

"If that's true, then someone is still spreading his nightmares around. I saw the remains of one. Actually, I think I saw the remains of several of them, all in the same room."

"Who's room would that be, mate?" Bunny asked, looking skeptical. "Jamie's? One of his friends?"

"Well, no." Jack had forgotten that they thought Jamie and his friends were the only ones who saw him on a regular basis. Heck, they still thought Jamie was the first kid to ever see him. He had never told them about Bekah. For several reasons.

For one, they would have used her as a guilt trip to join the guardians. He knew, without a doubt, that he would have joined if they had told him it would have guaranteed her safety. They wouldn't have threatened her, but using logic would have probably convinced him. And at the time, he had never wanted to have anything to do with the children-spoiling guardians.

Of course, even now he had his doubts.

Also, they would have been excited. Too excited. Jack had always known never to excite the guardians, for any unnecessary reason. Tooth alone was an overly hyper fair. Throw in excitement of any kind, lost teeth, birthdays, believers, whatever, and no one could control her. Jack liked fun, but overexcitement was not something he would consider "fun."

Jack leaned against the window ledge, fully prepared to go flying through the opening if Tooth appeared like she would physically attack him in her excitement. The day they had told him he was a guardian she had done that. Except that time, it had been involving his teeth. So hopefully this wouldn't be as bad.

"It's this girl, named Bekah. And she's been able to see me since she was eleven. That was five, no, six years ago."

There was a split moment of silence, and then it was as though a dam had broken.

"What?" North and Bunny said at the same time, both looking confused.

"Omigosh, but Jack, you said Jamie was the first person to see you!" Tooth had shot up into he air, as though because of her delight, she had lost control of her wings. She bounced up and down, her face glowing. "So she's, what? Seventeen now! And you two have stayed friends this entire time? Aw, Jack, who knew? You aren't as much as a loner as you pretend to be!"

_Of course that's what she would immediately conclude from all this, _Jack thought. He stopped their questions by holding up his hands.

"I can answer all of those questions later," he said. "But can we get back to the fact that Pitch could possibly be involved?"

The thought of Pitch sobered the moment, and Bunnymund asked, "Couldn't she just be having nightmares?"

Jack shook his. "I thought about that. But for there to nightmare sand, wouldn't he have to be involved? And there was a lot of it, practically everywhere in her room."

"It's possible, of course." North said. "But he's dead. Didn't you say earlier you thought someone else might be spreading them around?"

Sandy looked at them, and then several images appeared above his head. It showed a Pitch-like figure being chased by several ghostly horses. Then, he flashed a question mark above his head several times.

"Sandy's right," Tooth said. "Is it even possible to kill one of us? Lack of belief can weaken us, but can we die?"

"Well, Sandy did. Didn't he?" Bunny still look unconvinced.

"No," Tooth said, as Sandy vehemently shook his head. "He disappeared. Sort of. I still don't understand all of that, but obviously he didn't die."

"So maybe Pitch is in that same 'disappearance' type state."

"If he were," Jack cut in. "Then there shouldn't be nightmare sand. Sandy's dreams weren't able to function without him. Why would it be any different for Pitch?"

North sat down in his chair, stroking his beard. "Jack has given us something to think over. If Pitch is truly returning, we need to be prepared. Sandy, maybe look for extra signs when you visit children tonight. Jack, get back to your friend. If Pitch is involved, you should keep extra eye on her."

Jack nodded, and left. He hated meetings, and the endings were probably the most pointless parts. Better to go and do something, than to sit and wait for detailed instructions. Jack wasn't an idiot, and he could hold his own. He didn't need some big man who relied yeti to tell him what to do. He had it under control.

The only reason he had called the meeting was so that the other guardians could get their crap together. So people like Sandy and Tooth could be prepared, because they were definitely the two softest of the guardians. Granted, Sandy could do some amazing things with sand, but children's belief was a lot more important to keep him here then it was to Bunny or Jack.

Jack understood the importance of believers, but he doubted he would disappear if he lost a few, considering he only had a dozen or so of them. He loved their company, he would be heartbroken when they stopped believing, but he wouldn't die. Or whatever it was that had happened to Sandman.

It took him forty-five minutes to get back to Bekah, since an east blowing wind sent him a few states over, and he had to struggle through them to get back. But by the time he finally reached her house, he had only been gone for a little less than two hours.

_Not bad, _he mentally pattedhimself on the back. _You, Jack, are a mean, flying machine._

He floated down the hospital walls, looking for the room Bekah was supposed to be in. Finally, he found it. Bekah's aunt- Kathy? Katie? Something like that – was asleep in the chair, head tilted at an awkward angle.

Bekah was sitting next to her aunt, eyes closed. As much as Jack hated to wake her up, he figured he should let her know he was back.

"Hey," he hissed. "Bekah, wake up!"

She jerked awake, looking around the room with a confused look on her face. Jack tried to cover his smile. He had noticed that Bekah always did that. She was never very lucid in the few moments after she woke up. Then she would remember, and her eyes would sharpen, and she'd be ready to take down whoever she needed to.

It just so happened that this time, the person she wanted to take down was Jack. Which Jack wasn't expecting.

As soon as the sleepy look fell off her face, it was replaced by a frown and a disappointed look. She turned away from Jack, as though trying to ignore him. Which meant she was a lot more upset than she was letting on, because ignoring Jack was the ultimate punishment.

"Why are you angry?" Jack knew she might be upset, but he felt this was a little uncalled for.

"I'm not angry Jack," she sighed, turning towards him.

"Obviously you are," Jack argued.

"Jack, I'm just tired," she rubbed her eyes.

Jack stared at Bekah, until finally she broke. "I was just upset you left without telling me why. You've been keeping a lot of secrets from me lately. And I'm worried about you."

Jack looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Bekah."

"It's okay, Jack. I just wish you would feel like you could tell me stuff, like we've always been able to be." She bit her bottom lip. "I feel like we both have things we need to talk about."

"And we will, I promise!" Jack looked at her aunt, Karen. "How about tomorrow? Can you get away?"

"Well, if you had been here, you would've known I'm taking a trip."

Jack immediately understood her meaning. "Tomorrow?! Isn't that a little soon? How does she plan on moving you in practically a day? Aren't you worried?"

"I don't know!" She groaned, and dropped her head into her hands. Her muffled voice continued. "Everything is happening so quickly, and I don't understand how any of this happened. Two days ago, my mother and I were perfectly happy, eating oatmeal for breakfast and joking. Now, my mother's comatose, my aunt's practically abducting me, and my best friend has been M.I.A. Forgive me for not knowing exactly how I feel."

"Bekah," he said, kneeling down so he wasn't towering over her. He placed his hands gently on both sides of her head, on top of her hands. She looked up at him. "I'm not saying you have to know how you feel. I'm just saying, that when you are ready, I'll be there."

She sat quietly a moment, and then said, in barely a whisper, "Will you?"

**A/N: I just realized I never put a disclaimer... well I would hope none of you thought I owned the Legend of the Guardian, but if you're deluded and do, then let me set you** **straight. Ahem. I don't own this... movie. Wish I did, because then I would have definitely would have given Jack a fellow person... teenager. Whatever.**

**Criticism? Critique? Or, if not, favorite quote from this chapter? I tried third person. It isn't perfect (not by a long shot) but I've made you wait longer than needed. So there's probably some third person-expert who could give me some tips :) Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Aunt Karen took me back to my house. She put Max on a leash, and left. She told me she would be back in a little over an hour, since she had to pick up her things from a hotel before she came back and got me. Which was fine with me. The quiet was nice.

Until Jack came, and then it wasn't very quiet. As soon as he realized my aunt had left, he demanded to be fed pancakes. I didn't mind, since I was only relieved things weren't awkward. Now, we both knew we would talk soon, preferably once I was settled at my aunt's home. For now, I fell into the easy friendship I had been missing.

Once I had mixed the batter and poured a generous amount onto the griddle, I moved towards the fridge. Any perishables were thrown out. The last thing I wanted was to have a science experiment growing in my fridge. I poured both Jack and me a glass of milk, then poured the rest down the sink. I emptied out most of the refrigerator, using what I could. I chopped up the fruit and put it in a bag, and I made a couple of sandwiches that Jack could eat later (if he wanted to). Jack didn't have to eat, but he had a weakness for pancakes, pasta, and pepperoni sandwiches. I didn't understand why, but he said he honestly liked them for the taste, not just because they all started with the letter "P".

I periodically returned to the counter and poured more batter, or flipped the pancakes. Jack may not have had to eat, but he could put away pancakes like no one else I knew. As he ate, he told me that he liked pancakes because they were the most logical breakfast food.

"I mean, bacon is cool or all, but it's dangerous to make." He said from around a mouthful of food. I ignored his awful table manners, and smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever. "And waffles! Don't even get me started! Why would you waste ingredients to make those ugly things? You could make pancakes instead!"

I ran out of batter before Jack admitted to being finished, but Jack was fine with that. He only dumped his plate in the trash and asked, "Time to pack?"

We went upstairs, unconciously avoiding my mom's door. I walked to the closet, and Jack plopped onto my bed. He bounced back up as he watched me stretch onto my tiptoes to get the suitcase.

"Let me," he said, easily reaching up and lifting my suitcase down for me. I thanked him a carried it to my bed, where I propped it open before walking over to my desk. Jack helped me carry my art supplies to the bed, and then I careful sorted through it, only bringing what was important. I made sure to carefully pack all of my Prismacolor supplies, and an electric sharpener my mom had bought me for a fourteenth birthday present. I was impressed it still worked.

I packed it all carefully into my bag, stuffing clothes around them for padding. Two pairs of jeans, a set of pajamas, a t-shirt, my mother's college sweatshirt, and a dozen underwear and socks. I barely managed to cram my necessary bathroom supplies into the suitcase. Once it was zipped up (and it took Jack and I's combined effort), he carried it downstairs for me while I changed into my jeans and long sleeve shirt.

I took my backpack from my desk, and filled it with a few of my favorite books and my laptop. Then I slung it over my shoulder and ran downstairs. My aunt was already in the driveway, waiting for me. I hugged Jack, who told me he would see me that night. Then, I took my backpack and suitcase, and put it in the trunk of my aunt's rental.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The trip really wasn't all that exciting. It took forever to get through security, and to check our bags, but the flight didn't take as long as I expected. Once we landed, it was a quick walk to pick up our baggage, and then a long one to find my aunt's truck.

Even though we had flew, we still had a long drive to get to the tiny town Aunt Karen lived in. Add to that the fact that it was winter, and it meant that it was already dark by the time we entered Red Feather Lakes. Needless to say, it felt like a very long day.

I stared out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the town, but the street lamps weren't strong enough for me to really see anything. And before I knew it, the bit I could see was blocked out by trees.

I kept looking out the window, too tired to move. That is, until my over active imagination got the better of me, and I begun to see things in the trees and shadows. I shivered and sat up, scooting away from the windows as much as I could manage. I hated the dark.

My aunt chattered on throughout the entire ride to the house. "Tomorrow I'm going to get you registered at the high school. I already got your other school to fax everything needed, so you should be in school by no later than second period tomorrow. I assume it would just be better to go ahead and get the first day over with, you know?"

I did. I wasn't looking forward to it, but it beat sitting at home.

"And then after school we could go shopping, if you would like."

I quit paying attention as my aunt pulled into her drive. I had only been to her house once, when I was seven. Usually she would come and visit us instead, since a young child and a road trip never get along. Her house wasn't very large, but it would still comfortably fit two people.

Aunt Karen helped me get my things inside. Unlike my house, her home was one story, which meant my room was on the ground (and only) floor. I was towards the back of the house, past Aunt Karen's room and the kitchen.

The room was a light yellow color, with one large window looking over the backyard. The house sat on a hill, so the view was gorgeous. There was a twin bed covered by a faded blue quilt, and a wooden desk in the corner. There wasn't a closet, but my clothes would easily fit into the drawer.

I dropped my suitcase onto my bed, and the backpack onto the desk. I looked around again, before heading to the kitchen. Aunt Karen was already there, rummaging through the fridge.

"Hungry?" She asked, as she placed plastic bowls full of leftovers on the counter.

"Not really," I said, eyeing the containers suspiciously.

"It's Chinese food," she said, as though that would make it more appetizing.

"Yeah, I'm good." There was no way I was eating that. "Actually, I was just going to go outside, if that's alright?"

"Sure! There's a hammock strung out between the trees if you want a place to sit. And take your coat, it's really cold."

I went outside, before Aunt Karen could rethink letting a seventeen year old outside in freezing weather with just a coat. Good old Aunt Karen, always the responsible one.

I sat outside, swinging lazily swinging the hammock, waiting for Jack. I didn't doubt he would find me, because he seemed to be able to find anyone, if he tried. I sat back, one of my legs hanging over the edge. I swayed back and forth, the rhythmic motion lulling me into trance-like state, my eyes half closed.

"You're going to freeze out here."

I shot up, Jack's voice surprising me. The sudden jerk caused the hammock to flip. I shut my eyes, preparing myself for the crash.

But Jack never let that happened. He must have dived beneath me, because instead of hitting the ground, I wound up on his stomach. Well, mostly. My knee hit the ground, and hard.

"Ow," I hissed, pushing myself off of Jack, and looking at my knee. Jack sat up as well, rubbing his head.

"Yeah," he agreed. When he saw my knee, he gently grabbed it, his head forgotten. "Are you alright?"

"It's barely a scratch," I said, trying to pull away. He held me down, though. "What about your head? You seem to be hitting it a lot lately, aren't you worried about permanent damage?"

"Stop it. Just give me a second," he said, obviously not going to let me up. I huffed and stopped moving, letting him look at it. It wasn't a bad injury, just a little bit of blood, and it barely even stung. Except when he touched it.

Which he did. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore the burning sensation touching it caused. And then my leg was cold, and I couldn't feel anything. I opened one eye, scared to look. But it wasn't bleeding anymore, my knee was covered with a spidery frost.

"Is that-?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, it should be safe. Now let's go inside, you're freezing."

I didn't argue, since I was. Instead, I let him help me up and we both walked to the front door. When we reached it, he said goodnight and then turned as though to leave.

"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm. "We need to talk!"

"Now?" He turned around, a pained expression on his face.

"Yes." I said, forcefully. "Please."

He sighed and followed me inside. I walked past the kitchen, where my aunt was snacking on Chinese food and watching Oprah on her small, box-like television. I tried to stay quiet. It felt weird to be sneaking around a house I barely knew, followed by a boy. Especially when I thought what is usually meant when a seventeen year old was sneaking a boy into her house.

_Stop that. _I told myself, feeling a blush creeping up my neck. That was such an embarrassing train of thought. And concerning Jack!

I pulled Jack into my new room, and he dropped onto the bed. He looked at me, and asked, "Do you want to start?"

"I actually don't have much to tell." I said, shrugging.

"But you have something," he hinted. I sighed and walked over to my desk, dropping into the rolling chair in front of it.

"It happened while you were here." I began. "The day you gave me the ice skates."

"Which," Jack interrupted. "You left, by the way. I brought them for you. I'll bring them later."

"Thank you, but please just let me finish this. I'm much more interested in what happened to you."

"Fine." Jack looked disappointed that his distraction hadn't had the desired effect. But he folded his hands behind his head and dropped back on my pillow, waiting for the rest.

"Then you fell asleep, and this guy came and talked to me-."

"A guy?" Jack interrupted, again. He sat up, looking worried. "What did he look like?"

I was confused why it would matter to Jack, and stuttered out, "Um, tall. Really tall. Dark hair, longish nose. I can't remember very much."

Jack was still really tense, and if possible looked even more worried. Almost scared. "Did he talk to you? Tell you his name? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Why would he hurt me? See, this is why I didn't want to tell you!" Telling Jack things like this was frustrating. He jumped to conclusions, and overreacted. It was ridiculous. "He didn't hurt me, obviously. His name is Duff. And yes, we talked for a few minutes. He was lost and needed help finding the trail again."

"Anyway, it turns out he goes to high school here. So I just thought I might see him now and wanted you to know. No need to freak out."

"He's only a high schooler?"

"Yes?"

I didn't understand why, but this information seemed to calm Jack more than anything else I had tried. He rubbed his eyes, and let out a slow breath.

"Sorry. I wigged out, a little bit. But I'll explain why I was worried to make up for it, okay?" I nodded my consent and he began.

"Well, it started right before Easter last year -." And over the next hour, he told me the entire story; of Pitch, and the guardians, of his memories, and of Jamie.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "There's another kid! I'm so happy for you, Jack!"

"Yeah," Jack grinned. "He's the best, really. He and his friends all like snowball fights and they'll beg for snow days, like you do. And then, we'll build these giant snow forts, of course mine are the best…"

I smiled. He was literally glowing, a light blue color. He was so excited, like a little kid, as he told me about his new friends, and what they had done last Easter. He still visited Jamie, throughout the year.

It was hard to be so happy for him and this kid. Jamie and his friend made Jack so happy. He was now the guardian of fun, it would make sense for him to want to be around kids. Kids who would still play with him. Who would be wonderstruck, like I had been. Before I had begun to grow up.

I must not have been replying with the expected amount of enthusiasm, because Jack stopped midsentence in a story to look at me. "Hey, are you alright?"

"What?" I asked, pulled out of my thoughts. "I'm fine Jack. I'm just so happy for you."

"Yeah, you said that already." Jack floated over and sat on my desk. "So, tell the truth. What's up? One moment you're all happy, and the next moment it's as though you've been sucked into the depressing part of your head."

"I'm just going to miss you, that's all."

"But I'm not leaving yet, we still have more to talk about. And then there's tomorrow." He gave me his signature grin, which made me even more upset.

"I'm seventeen, Jack. Who knows if I'll even be able to see you next year? The guardians are for children, and next year, I'm an adult. So I am happy, because I don't want to leave you alone. But knowing that I'm not going to have you anymore, it makes me sad. So I miss you, even though that for the time being, I have you."

"Don't talk like that!" Jack hissed, a hurt look filling his eyes. "Bekah, we have no idea how this will end. I mean, we're each other's best friends. No, we're more than that. And we can't waste time worrying about what might happen. Just enjoy it when we have it, like we always have."

"But, Jack, I'm afraid."

Jack grabbed my arms and squeezed. "Bekah, as long as I'm here, you never have to be afraid."

I laughed awkwardly, looking away from the intense look in Jack's eyes. He was rarely this passionate about anything. "Well, somebody's cocky."

"Well," he shrugged, and smiled. "I did defeat fear itself last year."

"Yeah, definitely cocky. So Pitch, he's gone?"

Jack's smile fell from his face. "Well, we thought so. But now we aren't so sure."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't want you to freak out." Well, that's never a good way to keep someone calm. "But we think he might be back, because- well, I saw his nightmare sand in your room."

I don't know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. "But why does that mean he's alive? People have nightmares all the time."

"No, I don't think you understand. You saw it, it was everywhere! I've never seen that much before, aside from around Pitch himself. Haven't you noticed how many nightmares you have?"

"Jack, my mom's had two strokes in the last year. Of course I have nightmares, that's a traumatic experience for anyone, there's bound to be some scar from that. You said Pitch was dead, and just because I have nightmares doesn't mean it's because of him."

"But the sand-." Jack stopped and shook his head. "I don't want you to be worried, because you're right. He might not be alive. But until we're sure, I don't want you to be in danger. So forgive me if I'm a little suffocating for now."

"Jack," I said, smiling. I had already put the idea of Pitch behind me. With Jack here, I didn't need to be afraid. He'd wouldn't let anything happen to me. "You could never be suffocating. I love you."

He grinned. "I love you, too, kiddo."

I laughed. "I'm hardly a kiddo, I'm almost a grown-up."

"I'm, like, three hundred years old. You'll always be a youngster to me." We both cracked up, though I had to be quiet about it. I didn't want Aunt Karen to hear me.

"Alright, old man. Sheesh, you think you know a guy, and then he tells you he's hundreds of years old. Are you about to tell me you're a vampire?" I joked. Then I gasped loudly. "Oh my gosh, I'm feeling a Twilight moment coming on!"

"What?" Jack asked, laughing. Oh, right. Spirit of winter probably has no clue what that is. "And no, I'm not a vampire. You might not believe me, but I'm actually," he paused for dramatic effect. "A guardian. Like the Easter Bunny, but way cooler! I bring snow and awesomeness to kids all across the globe."

As he was saying this, he had jumped off the desk, and onto my bed. He said the last sentence in a deep voice, trying to look thoughtful and heroic.

"Oh, Jack Frost," I stood up. Not one to be outdone, I swirled in a circle, my hands clasped together in the stereotypical princess pose. "I want to be just like you when I grow up!"

It had gotten to the point where we could barely hold in our laughter. I dropped back on the bed, and Jack dropped next to me. We definitely couldn't speak, so instead we sat together, giggling. Every now and then, one of us would get enough control to blurt out another age-joke, which would send us back into a fit of laughter.

"Okay, okay," I gasped, our laughter finally winding down. "You, mister, need to go. I need my beauty sleep before school tomorrow."

"Fine." Jack agreed, jumping to his feet. "I'll let myself out. Think I might sleep on your roof, see the stars."

"Alright," I said, giving him a hug. "See you tomorrow? I'll probably just eat toast, unless you want something.

"I ate enough this morning to never want to eat again." He smiled. "But I might see you after school, if your aunt is driving. Or in lunch, if I can get you away from all those teenagers."

"I doubt you'll be able to, I mean I'm just so popular." Sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm.

"Hey, Little Miss Negativity. You are more than capable of making friends. Just don't get too popular, or I'll never see you. Night!"

"Sleep tight!"

"And don't let the frost bite, bite."

After Jack left, I changed into the pair of pajamas I brought, spent a few minutes getting ready in the bathroom, and then slipped under the faded quilt. I fell asleep watching the snow drift lazily outside my window.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Unfortunately, I was not woken up as peacefully as I fell asleep.

"Bekah! You need to get up! We're late!" This was followed by a hard pinch.

"Ouch!" I sat up, clutching my arm. I glared blearily around the room, my eyes finally focusing on my aunt.

"Sorry, hon." Aunt Karen began to apologize. "But we are beyond late. Now get dressed, we need to go."

And with that, she ran out of the room, at the same time as she pulled up her hair.

I took a moment to actually become conscious, and then slowly stood up. I wondered over to my suitcase, and pulled out a sweatshirt and jeans. It was the only complete outfit I had brought. I put it on and pulled back my hair, not wanting to bother to put on a good show. I was going to be the new girl in a small school. The only thing worse than that was if I somehow got the Bella syndrome and everyone became obsessed with me. I laughed at the thought, because it was completely impossible. I was probably the least likable person on earth. I was generally quiet. Which some people took as snobbish, though honestly I wasn't. I just didn't understand why teenagers were so hormonal and dramatic. And I didn't like making conversation. Or eye contact. Or friends.

I sighed and walked to the kitchen, where my aunt was. She was bouncing on her toes, a brown bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Your lunch," she handed to me. "I didn't have time to buy you a backpack, so I figured this was the least I could do. And a coffee. All teenagers drink coffee, right?"

I decided to ignore the fact that I didn't, and took what she was offering. I thanked her, before she dragged both of us to her truck. Soon enough we were on the road, puttering our way over to the high school.

We pulled up to the building, which was on our side of the town. It was obviously a newer building, built of white stones and wooden beams.

"This is the school?" I gasped, staring out the car window.

"Mhmm." My aunt hummed, while digging through her purse. "New principal pressed for a complete renovation a few years ago."

"Oh." Well, that's pretty cool. I looked back my aunt. "Ready?"

"Yes, found it!" She yanked out a crumpled piece of paper. "Let's go."

We walked into the school, and I followed my aunt to the office.

"Hello, how may I help you?" An old woman dressed in bright orange asked us once we walked in. I would have tried to respond, but I was blinded by the color.

"Hi, I'm Karen Bell. My niece and I are supposed to be talking to Principal Stoll about the placement in the senior class?"

"Oh gracious! Karen, it has been forever since I saw you! Sheldon's in his office, just walk right back in there." Then she flashed us a smile and went back to typing on her computer.

As we walked back to "Sheldon's" office, I thought I heard Aunt Karen mutter, "I cannot believe she's still here. And _alive_."

I stifled a laugh since we were already in his office. So, my Aunt Karen apparently knew the orange lady. Interesting.

"Hello, Sheldon." Aunt Karen stuck her hand out to a middle aged man sitting behind the desk.

"Karen," He grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. "And you must be Rebekah. Nice to meet you."

"And you."

"Well, Bekah, your aunt and I have a lot to talk about. Why don't you take these," and he handed me a stack of textbooks. "Grab your schedule and a note from Mrs. Wright and go ahead to first period?"

"Yes sir." I struggled with the textbooks as I walked back to the secretary's desk.

"Here, honey." I looked over the books to see Mrs. Wright, or at least who I assumed was Mrs. Wright, holding out one of those cheap cotton bags.

"Thank you," I put the books down and began cramming them into the bag one at a time. "The principal said to get a schedule? And a note?"

"Of course, let me get it for you!" She dug around her desk and handed me a schedule, and then handed me a note that excused me from being late.

"Thanks."

I left the office, and had walked down several hallways before I realized I had no idea where I was going. I thought I had passed the cafeteria, and several classrooms, but none had the room number I was looking for.

Finally, much to my humiliation, I had to step into an empty classroom. The teacher was standing at a lab table, so I guessed it was another science room. I had already passed these, so it seemed as though I was going in circles.

The teacher was a nice guy, and pointed me in the direction of the English room I was supposed to be in. I thanked him several time, then sprinted to my class, hoping to make it before it was second period and I had to get directions _again._

I stood outside of the door, fidgeted with my sweatshirt, and then knocked.

"May I help you?" A young man opened the door. He was around my age, so I knew he must be a student.

"Yeah, let me in." I slipped around him and found myself facing an entire class of interested students. I stood still for a moment, my mouth open. Then I felt my face heat up, and I looked at the floor as I walked to the teacher's desk.

I wordlessly handed him the note, keeping my eyes set on the whiteboard behind him. I risked a peek behind me, and found everyone was still staring, probably because I had interrupted their class fifteen minutes before it was over.

"So, you're from Texas, are you?" I nodded. "Well, it's very nice to meet you. Everyone, this is Bekah. Try to make her feel welcomed."

I looked up to find several people waving, but I didn't wave back. I was back to being awkward Bekah, who was apparently part mute.

"And where to put you. For now, just take the open desk in the back. I'm sure Duff would be more than happy to help you find the rest of your classes today." My eyes snapped up, and I scanned the room again. This time, I did see Duff, dressed in dark grey, sitting in the back. He smiled at me, obviously surprised. I smiled back, a real smile. "Won't you, Duff?"

"Happily. Sir. Good to see you again Bekah."

This sent the room into a tizzy. Everyone was asking how Duff knew me, and I knew I was in for it.

_Thanks, Duff. Thank a whole lot. _I thought bitterly. Just what I needed.

I made my way to the back of the room, dodging desk and backpacks. I dropped into the empty desk, and was immediately flicked a note from Duff.

_Isn't stalking illegal?_

_-D_

I grinned at him and scribbled my own note.

_I'm not stalking to you. Full of it, much?_

_-B_

We spent the last of class sending each other notes. More than anything, I was glad to know I found an ally here. I was sure I'd need one.

**A/N:**

**Took me forever, but it's finally here, thanks to some gentle prodding by Chaos Infinity-X. Thank you, because I needed it.**

**A few things I thought I would go ahead and let you know about. 1) Elsa should be meeting the guardians within the next one or two chapters. Unless I get off track, which I have been known to do. I'm trying to get past all the boring average parts. 2) I had an epiphany last night while watching this. And so I now know where this is heading, in a slightly new direction. I'm very excited. **

**And no, we will not be having a Bella-syndrome here (Everyone falls in love with the new girl). Seems like all books like to do that. No, Bekah is and forever will be her awkward self.**

**So if you have any questions or comments, I'd love to hear. I want to make sure y'all understand everything. And I'm sorry I haven't been responding, but every time I see a comment, I try to write five hundred words. I'm attempting to motivate myself to go faster. ****J**** I love each and every one of you have read and followed or commented. I hope I got all the mess ups, but even on my best days, I'm not a great editor.**

**Okay, over and out!**


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